


Caught Up in the Dance

by whatsnewkellygreen



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: BUTYOUWILLNEVERACTUALLYSEEIT, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Life - Freeform, Love, M/M, Rehab, Surgery, Yakovisasofty, Yurionice!!, acltear, andmorefluff, anxiousYuuri, coachyuuri, concussion, depressedvictor, fallduringcompetition, figureskating - Freeform, goodolyuriwiththetude, iceandglass, injuredyuuri, ipromise, mostlybasedinrussia, studentvictor, theyaresillyboys, victurri, wholoveeachothersomuch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23386111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsnewkellygreen/pseuds/whatsnewkellygreen
Summary: Everyone knew it would happen eventually. Hell, even Yuuri himself knew that it was bound to occur. In fact, he was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.He’d always been a pretty high-risk skater, due to the fact that he never really developed his jumps properly. He always landed with his knees slightly caving in, putting unnecessary stress on his joints. Half the time he couldn’t even land on the intended edge of his skates, making him wobble like a novice all over again. It was frustrating, anxiety inducing, but most of all… it was embarrassing.Celestino, his coach, always preached to Yuuri that the reason his jumps were so weak was because he lacked confidence. His jumps were weak and unsteady- just like him.So yeah, Yuuri had seen it coming… he just wished it hadn’t happened in front of the whole world.--An AU where the story of Yuri on Ice!! is reversed in a way. Yuuri is now the coach and Victor has to learn how to be the student. The both learn more than they expected, though. <3
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 116
Kudos: 154





	1. A Fall and a Video Call

**Author's Note:**

> This story is something that I've been working on for over a year now! It holds a very special place in my heart <3 please let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy my precious boys :)

Everyone knew it would happen eventually. Hell, even Yuuri himself knew that it was bound to occur. In fact, he was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

He’d always been a pretty high-risk skater, due to the fact that he never really developed his jumps properly. He always landed with his knees slightly caving in, putting unnecessary stress on his joints. Half the time he couldn’t even land on the intended edge of his skates, making him wobble like a novice all over again. It was frustrating, anxiety inducing, but most of all… it was embarrassing.

Celestino, his coach, always preached to Yuuri that the reason his jumps were so weak was because he lacked confidence. His jumps were weak and unsteady- just like him.

So yeah, Yuuri had seen it coming… he just wished it hadn’t happened in front of the whole world.

\---

“Yuuri? Yuuri, are you awake?”

Yuuri recognized the voice immediately, even without opening his eyes. His head absolutely ached and there was a throbbing behind his eyes, preventing him from making any sort of eye contact with his best friend.

Although his brain suddenly felt too big for his skull, the rest of his body felt strangely numb. He could feel himself wiggling his fingers, but it felt different than it usually did. Kind of like when he forgot his skating gloves during a jumping practice, and his bare hands had come in contact with the cold, hard ice one too many times. Numb. And his legs… actually, he couldn’t feel those at all.

“Phichit?”

He croaked out, wincing at the sound of his own voice. Where was he? Their apartment back in Detroit didn’t smell like this… and wasn’t he supposed to be competing in the Grand Prix Final in Amsterdam? What the-

Yurri’s eyes snapped open and he immediately groaned. His head… he’s never felt anything like this before. The artificial lights above him served to only make the throbbing behind his eyes worse. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to lessen the pain, lolling his head to the side and taking in Phichits’ concerned expression. Phichit was wearing his free skate costume that Celestino had picked out for him for the current season, the official Thailand Figure Skating team jacket zipped up to cover the questionable amount of sequins and mesh.

“Oh my god, Yuuri! Are you alright!?”

Phichit squeaked out, eyes looking glassy with unease. He stepped closer to where Yuuri was laying- on a hospital bed, it seemed- and gently took Yuuri’s hand into his trembling own. Yuuri took a second to just stare at the darker boy standing next to him, swallowing a few times before squeezing Phichit’s hand weakly in his and managing a small nod.

“Phichit… What happened? Where are we?” He pushed out the question, hesitance clear in his quiet voice. Something had to have happened- something bad. He wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to know.

“ขี้, Yuuri… it happened so fast. I- I barely just saw it. Wish I hadn’t…” Phichit started with a shaky gasp. “You… you fell on your triple axel during the free skate. When you landed- your knees practically went all the way in. You slammed onto the ice so hard there was an echo. A-and… and then you didn’t get back up!” Phichit spoke frantically, a few tears spilling down his cheeks.

Yuuri’s heart and stomach clenched tight. He fell during the competition? In front of all the other skaters? In front of all the people in the stands? On live broadcast? He clenched Phichit’s hand a little tighter.

“Officials took you off the ice on a stretcher… you- you were knocked out cold. The whole competition took a short recess until you were put in the ambulance and taken here. God- everyone was so worried! I’ve never seen Celestino with that look on his face…”

Phichit spoke, using his free hand to wipe at his damp cheeks. He sniffled a few times, eyes not leaving the Japanese man’s face. He had been so scared… Yuuri could see it in his eyes. He hated himself for making his best friend worry like that.

“Coach? Where is he?”

Yuuri asked, eyebrows furrowed as he glanced around the empty room. The only sounds were Phichit’s sniffles and the low, methodical beeping of the heart-rate monitor he was hooked up to. He hadn’t noticed it before… but then again, he felt numb all over. Yuuri sighed and wiggled the fingers of his free hand again, watching the stilted movements closely.

“He went to go call your parents. They called about a million times while you were unconscious. Mari and Minako too.”

Shit. Yuuri hadn’t even thought about the people back home. Of course they were watching his competition, it was his first time skating in the Grand Prix Final. Nobody expected him to make it there, and he was the only skater representing Japan. God, he probably had worried them all sick. He could just imagine his mother’s cries and his father pacing all around the inn. Mari had probably smoked a whole pack of cigarettes by now… The guilt was heavy on his shoulders.

“I-I’ll call in the doctor. He wanted to see you when you woke up.”

Ten minutes later, Yuuri was still laying in the same bed. Celestino, Phichit, and the doctor stood around him, all eyes on the injured skater. The doctor- Dr. Visser, as helpfully supplied by the embroidering on the white lab coat he was wearing- had done a few tests on Yuuri immediately when he had entered the room. A flashlight in the eyes, multiple questions asked, even a quick test to see if Yuuri could touch his finger to his nose while his eyes were closed. (He failed miserably.)

Now he was looking down at the patient, arms crossed over his chest and the tip of his pointer finger resting on his lips.

“Ah- English good?”

Dr. Visser asked in a thick Dutch accent. Yuuri swallowed, glancing up at Celestino for a brief second before nodding his head at the doctor. In the back of his mind, Yuuri wondered how much trouble he put the hospital and his coach through in order to find an English speaking doctor in the Netherlands. His heart thudded hard in his chest.

“Ok Yuuri, from what I can see, you seem to have bad concussion. Hit head hard on ice, yes?”

The man was obviously looking for confirmation, but Yuuri just shuttered and closed his eyes tight. His breathing shook in his chest, and he used his blunt fingernails to scratch at his palms anxiously. When it was clear to Dr. Visser that his patient wasn’t going to be the one answering his questions, he sighed and readjusted his gaze onto Celestino. Celestino placed a comforting hand on Yuuri’s shoulder before giving an affirmative ‘yes’.

“So, boy has bad concussion. But more. After doing test earlier, I see boy has torn anterior cruciate ligament in right knee. Yuuri tore ACL with fall on ice, too.”

There was an odd sort of bubbling in Yuuri’s chest. While his heart was pounding and his brain was swirling, his hands shook and a sardonic laugh escaped his mouth. Yuuri knew all about ACL tears- it’s what doctor after doctor, and coach after coach, warned him about his entire skating career. It’s what took his friend Yuuko out of competing back when they were only 15. It’s what he always feared happening to his body the most… and look at him now.

His humorless laugh cut off the conversation between his coach and the doctor, making all three of them look at him with concerned expressions. Phichit blinked rapidly, looking down at Yuuri’s hands and seeing the nail-on-skin abuse happening again. He quickly grabbed his best friend’s hands, trying to put a halt to Yuuri’s harmful nervous tick. Yuuri pulled away immediately from Phichit’s hold, but didn’t go back to tearing his hands apart. Instead, he swallowed the dry lump in his throat and choked out the only thought going through his mind.

“So I’m done skating.”

Yuuri posed the question like a statement that he was already certain of. Briefly, he wondered if putting an end to his competitive skating career would really be that bad of a thing. He’s been skating for so long, killing himself for a sport for so long. Yuuri started to competitively skate for two reasons. The first being to convince himself and everyone else that he was _good enough_. Good enough to compete in high level events. Good enough to earn a name for himself through talent and hard work. Good enough to breathe easily again. But he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that. He wasn’t crazy enough to believe that him earning a spot skating in the Grand Prix Final wasn’t just a fluke. He got lucky somehow… It wasn't because he was good enough. He was never _good enough_. The second reason he started skating… well, that didn’t matter either.

So why was he still skating then? It couldn’t help him to realize that he was good enough, and it just served him with severe anxiety and, now, physical injury.

  
Sure, the ice was the only place where his thoughts could settle down and organize themselves in a way that Yuuri could understand. And yeah, Yuuri met his best friend in the whole world through it. And it’s undeniable that Yuuri felt at home standing on the frozen ground with his skates tied tight around his feet. Yuuri found refuge on the ice, something he has yet to find anywhere else in the whole world. And he’s seen a good chunk of the world - thanks to skating. Skating made sense to Yuuri, and honestly, not much did anymore. It made him feel light and happy and strong… made him feel like the best version of himself. But at what cost?

Was it even worth it anymore?

“Well, no. Yuuri needs surgery and much time to recover. Then, maybe he skate again.”

Dr. Visser spoke quickly, having seen the turmoil in the foreigner’s eyes. Uncrossing his arms, he nervously put them on his waist over his lab coat. His eyes searched between Yuuri, Phichit, and Celestino pleadingly.

“Est-ce que l'un d'entre vous parle français?” (Do any of you speak french?)

“Oui.” (Yes.)

Celestino sighed, knowing that speaking french would be easier for the Dutch doctor but also not liking how Yuuri couldn’t follow the conversation then. But, looking at the shaking boy now, maybe it was for the best that Yurri didn’t partake in the conversation. This way he could choose his words with Yuuri, deliver them in a way that Yuuri could hopefully handle.

“Yuuri, I am going to talk to Dr. Visser in the hallway, okay? You sit tight. Phichit, make sure he’s breathing alright. We’ll be right back.”

Celestino mumbled, reaching down and patting one of Yurri’s hands that were resting on the bed beside his unmoving thighs. Phichit gave a confident nod, sniffling once more before making his way closer to his best friend.

Once Dr. Visser and Celestino were out of the small hospital room, Yuuri began to really freak out.

It started out slowly, almost unnoticeable to even himself. He usually noticed when a panic attack was coming on, could feel it clawing at his nerves, but this time it was different. It all started with his chin. His chin started to tingle, a strange sort of vibration that spread from the tip of his chin and over his slightly chubby cheeks. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his fingers coming up to rest on the sensitive area.

As soon as his slim fingers touched the skin, though, the tingling quickly moved to underneath his eyes. The dark bags of exhaustion spazzed with an unexplainable current beneath the surface of the sensitive skin. His fingers chased the feeling, panic flooding it’s way into his russet brown eyes.

“Yuu-chan, are you alright?”

Phichit’s question was lost to Yuuri as the tingling moved straight to his throat. It was a feeling Yuuri wasn’t familiar with, had never experienced before. It tickled incessantly and pricked the skin inside his mouth. He struggled to breathe with the fluttering sensation, and his fingers clawed at his neck in order to make it go away. Long scratches ripped down and across the soft pale skin of his neck, red and burning. And he couldn’t stop. He lost all control of his hearing and missed Phichit’s fearful screams. He lost all control of his vision and missed Phichit and multiple nurses running closer to him, reaching for his hands desperately. All he could feel was the sting that refused to leave his throat, the pain that was associated with his skating dreams and desires crashing to the floor and shattering into a million pieces before his eyes.

Hands looped around his wrists and pulled his nails away, but Yuuri fought back. He couldn’t breath. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t see. He had to get whatever it was out of his throat, had to make the itch go away. But the more he fought the multiple sets of hands against him, the more his head became light. His head grew lighter and lighter until everything dimmed around him.

\--  
The second time Yuuri woke up, he was fully aware of where he was. He now recognized the stale smell of antibiotics that the room floated with. The beeping of his heart monitor had been present in the back of his mind as he had slept for an indiscernible amount of time. He wasn’t as confused by his surroundings as he had been before.

When his eyes peeled open, he noticed the fluorescent lights, that had been shining harshly above him earlier, were currently flipped off. The room’s light source was now coming from a single lamp in the corner of the room, bathing the small space in a warm orange glow. It was nice… it didn’t hurt his head as much.

Although his head hurt a little bit less, there was a new pain that was taking over his attention. His shaky fingers slowly moved up to his neck. His fingertips touched the raw, burning skin. Red raised lines created a unique pattern all across his throat, and it felt so sore to the touch that he winced, a small groan slipping from his thin lips.

“You shouldn’t touch your neck, Yuu-chan. You did enough harm to it already.”

_I did this?_

Yuuri thought in horror as he bit his lip. He quickly removed his fingers, trying with difficulty to swallow before turning to the person who had spoken to him. Celestino sat in an uncomfortable looking plastic chair beside his bed, appearing to be just as drained as Yuuri felt. He was slouched down, sitting more relaxed than Yuuri had ever seen him before… but it was quite clear that his coach was far from relaxed. His shoulders sat in a taut line and his eyes were scrunched slightly in distress. He looked like he had aged ten years in one day.

And Yuuri didn’t even know what to say. He couldn’t remember what happened to his neck, but he was sure it had been his fault. The familiar bad taste in his mouth told him that he once again had a panic attack… but he didn’t usually get harmful with them. Did he really hurt himself that bad without knowing? He felt tears seep into his eyes, feeling sick and helpless. Feeling that he was seconds away from breaking, he looked around for Phichit, knowing that his friend could always make him feel better. Rooted. Real... But his search came up empty, and his watery eyes landed back on his coach.

“I sent Phichit back to the hotel for the night. He was pretty shaken up from… well, from everything today. He’ll be back in the morning, I’m sure.”

Celestino explained, feeling an unbearable amount of sympathy for his skater. Yuuri was a good kid… honest, hard working, kind… he didn’t deserve this. He was the last person in the whole international skating league to deserve something like this.

Yuuri silently nodded, looking down at his blanket covered lap. He wanted to ask so many questions- _What happened to my throat? Has my family called again? When can I leave this hospital? Am I done skating?_ \- but he couldn’t find the words or the will. Instead he just let his fingers dance on his numb thighs.

“It’s not great, Yuuri. You have a concussion and you tore the ACL in your right leg. It’s not a clean tear either. You’re going to need reconstruction surgery and a lot of physical therapy to get back to where you were before the fall, skating wise. But it’s possible… you don’t have to be done competing. This isn’t a career ending injury… just a setback.”

Yuuri’s heart just thudded heavily in his chest. He heard every word the older man spoke clearly, but he didn’t know what he was feeling about them. Was he happy that he could potentially skate again? Scared that, with his luck, he would get the reconstruction surgery and somehow not recover properly and actually never skate again? Sad that this whole thing happened in the first place? He kept his eyes glued to his lap. Celestino continued when he realized Yuuri wasn’t going to respond.

“I’ve already notified a few people about the extent of your injuries. The JSF wanted to know, as well as a few others that were at the competition. The stories should hit the press in the morning.”

A sigh escaped the skaters lips before he could pull it back in. Of course the JSF only cared about the degree of harm and the potential setbacks their skater might face.

“You- you had a panic attack the last time you were awake. I’ve never seen one like it before. You went straight for your throat, scratching as hard as you could. We couldn’t get you to stop until you tired yourself out. Phichit was so scared… you really tried to hurt yourself. I… I’m really concerned about you.”

Yuuri cringed as the words from his coach’s mouth processed in his mind. A hand came back up to his throat, fingers carefully drifting over the swollen scratch marks. He ignored the pain and swallowed once again. Honestly, he was concerned about that too. He had never reacted to a panic attack like that before.

“I-I’m fine, coach. When am I being released?”

Celestino sighed, wondering if his student had listened to anything he said.

“No, Yuuri, I don’t think you understand. You completely blew out your knee. The reason you can’t feel it right now is because they have you on some pretty strong medication.”

Yuuri looked down at his legs in front of him, realizing again that he couldn’t actually feel either of them. It was a strange thing, to not be able to feel the appendages that were most utilized and valued about your body. He felt… empty.

“Okay, when is my surgery then?”

His voice was becoming more desperate. He knew it. And he found that he didn’t really care. He felt desperate. How was his entire life falling apart like this?

“Well, there are some complications with that actually. See, the tear is so bad that any surgeon would refuse to do surgery on it right away. The doctors recommend a few weeks of physical therapy before your surgery, so the recovery process is quicker and more guaranteed.”

That… that he could live with. He would be glad to go back to Detroit, work with the rink’s physical therapist, Dante, for a while and then get the surgery in a couple of weeks. He’d be on his home turf, and maybe he’d be able to relax a little bit… process all the information better.

“Oh. Have you already talked with Dante? When are we flying home?”

The way Celestino tensed up at the question was hard to miss. Yuuri’s eyes widened, taking in his coach's reluctant expression. There was more? Yuuri wasn’t sure he was mentally or emotionally strong enough to hear anything else that was wrong. His heart was already cracked, his mind dark, and his anxiety had obviously hit a whole new level of bad… how would he react to this?

“What is it?” He questioned in a broken tone.

“Well, uh, we have to make some decisions, actually. About all of this,” Celestino started, keeping his eyes on his skater. Yuuri’s shoulders sunk even more and his big brown eyes looked like glass. In fact, the _whole_ man in front of him looked like glass. Glass that had just been dropped- cracked dangerously with shards poking out at the edges, but not shattered, still somehow in one piece and desperately trying to hold himself together. Yuuri wouldn’t be able to handle this. Not after everything that he’d already been through today. Celestino was sure of it.

“Why don’t we talk more in the morning Yuuri? They want to keep you for the night anyway. We can make any decisions we need to make then, okay? Call your mom and dad… talk with them for a bit?”

Celestino suggested, hoping the Japanese skater would agree with him.

Yuuri let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, relieved and perturbed at the same time. He knew that he should just bite the bullet and hear everything now, deal with everything now, but he was thankful to have a break. His coach knew exactly what he needed, even when Yuuri didn’t. He looked up at Celestino and managed to give him a weak smile while nodding. He didn’t feel that the smile was genuine, but he hoped his coach didn’t notice.

“Yeah- I think that would be best.” He mumbled out, his eyes drooping.

Celestino gave Yuuri a sympathetic smile back, standing up and moving closer to his bed. Yuuri looked exhausted, but that was to be expected after the day he had. He needed sleep, and a lot of it. Celestino laid a big hand on his student’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“We’ll get through this, okay? For now, please just get some rest. You really need it. I’ll be back in the morning. Call if you need anything, even if it’s in the middle of the night. I’ll be here in an instant if you need me. I’m serious”

Yuuri wouldn’t call, even if he did happen to need his coach for something. He’d put Celestino through enough already- actually, he put Celestino through way too much. There was no way he could ask anything more of him. Also, he was 22, he could get through one night on his own. He did appreciate the offer, though.

“Thank you Celestino. For everything… and I-I’m sorry. I should have focused more on my landing, I guess… I didn’t mean to worry everyone so much.”

“No. Don’t ever apologize for getting hurt, Yuuri. It was an accident, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Celestino sighed, squeezing the skater’s shoulder one last time before removing his hand. He gave Yuuri a long, meaningful look and then turned around, making his way to the exit.

“Call your parents. I’ll see you in the morning.”

As he watched Celestino leave, Yuuri leaned further back into the pillows behind him. He breathed slowly, closing his eyes and running his fingers gently over his thighs. He still couldn’t feel them, his legs, and it was disconcerting. How could he not feel the most important thing about him?

Yuuri would get the reconstruction surgery on his knee. He would do the physical therapy and get the surgery. That much he had decided. But he didn’t know if he would skate competitively again. He had nagging feelings both ways… _‘You had a good run, now you can focus on school- get your degree’ … ‘But you can’t quit now- not when skating is the only thing that makes you feel something- anything’._

And that’s how his thoughts stayed, Yuuri at war with himself. He didn’t know what the right answer was and didn’t know how to find it out. So for now, he reached out to the bedside table, grabbing his phone and squinting when the bright screen assaulted his eyes. Right… the concussion. Sighing to himself, he quickly lowered the brightness of his phone to the dimmest setting. Then, he pulled up his Skype app, pressing onto ‘Mari’ with a shaking finger.

The call connected after the first ring and his sister’s face appeared. She looked worried, her short, dyed hair messy and panic clear in her eyes. She was sitting in the Inn’s dining room, and Yuuri could see his mom and dad looking over her shoulders, both appearing equally as concerned as Mari. He could see glimpses of Yuuko, Nishigori, and Minako too, all of them trying to get a glance at the injured skater. Much to his dismay, tears filled his eyes the minute the screen appeared with his life back in Hasetsu… he must have disappointed them all so much.

“Mari, mom, dad- hi”

\--

**Katsuki Yuuri of Japan Falls During Grand Prix Final, Tears ACL in Competition.**

_Amsterdam, Netherlands. 02/11._

_Japanese skater, Katsuki Yuuri, crashed during his free skate at the Grand Prix Finale earlier today in Amsterdam. Katsuki’s fall happened when he failed to properly land a triple axel in the first half of his skate. Katsuki had been in fourth place going into the Men’s Free Skate, but due to the fall that bid him unconscious, he was taken away from the competition in an ambulance. Unable to finish his free skate, the judges had no choice but to disqualify Katsuki from the Final._

_Katsuki Yuuri’s coach, Celestino Cialdini, commented on his skater’s condition, stating that, “Yuuri has a serious concussion as well as a torn ACL in his right knee. We are discussing options for his future and recovery, but no comments will be made on the subject at this time. He is currently stable and in good hands. He’d like to thank everyone for the concern and support”._

_Will this be the end of Japan’s Ace?_

Read more below...


	2. Twenty-one Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is chapter 2! I honestly think it's my favorite one that I've written in this whole story so far, so I really hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Meet my sweet Victor :)

One day. It was only one day after the Grand Prix Final. Twenty-one hours after the medal ceremony, if Yakov was being exact. Twenty-one hours ago Yakov watched Victor Nikiforov climb up onto the top podium, bow his head for the white rose crown, and accept the gold medal with a smile that could fool the world. 

But it couldn’t fool Yakov. 

Yakov Feltsman had many rules, but very few of them he actually held his skaters firm to. Most of his students had strong, independent minds of their own. They were free souls, and as much as it made Yakov’s blood pressure spike and his hair fall out, he appreciated their passion for the sport. But some rules, they had to follow if they wanted to skate for him. 

One of the rules that all of the competing Russian National skaters had to follow was that they were required to take two full days off after a competition. Forty-eight hours to relax their minds and their muscles. Forty-eight hours to come down from the excitement and pressure of the competition. Forty-eight hours to recover  _ away _ from the ice. 

Victor missed the mark by twenty-seven hours.

“Vitya, you know the rules.” 

His rocky voice carried across the almost silent rink, the sound of skates against smooth ice abruptly coming to a halt. The tall, silver haired skater slowly turned around on the far side of the rink to face his coach. His shoulders were slumped down and he ran a hand through his bangs. Victor sighed, pushing off and skating towards the edge of the rink where Yakov stood with both hands in his jacket pockets. 

“I know it’s only been a day but-”

“Twenty-one hours.” Yakov cut him off with a raised eyebrow. 

Victor rolled his eyes, stopping himself right in front of his coach and gripping the edge of the barrier surrounding the rink. 

“Fine. I know it’s only been  _ twenty-one _ hours since the competition, but I wanted to work on my step sequence. It wasn’t perfect, and I’d like to get it to be perfect before Nationals in a month.”

It was Yakov’s turn to roll his eyes. His hands clenched into fists in his pockets and he shook his head, giving his skater a disapproving look. 

“Vitya, you just won your third consecutive Grand Prix Final. Your step sequence is in good shape. Go home. Eat, sleep, stretch… I don’t care. Play with Makka or bother Yuri. But you can’t be here. You know that.”

Something wasn’t right in Victor’s eyes. Yakov had noticed it for a while now. At least a year. He didn’t know what it was, didn’t know what was going on inside of Victor’s head… but he didn’t like it. 

And the look that Victor gave Yakov, a look of pure desperation underneath silver eyelashes, made Yakov’s lips turn further downwards. He noticed the slight tremor in Victor’s lips immediately, the way he blinked rapidly all of a sudden as he reached for his skate guards on the edge. His hand moved slowly, shaking as if the skate guards were made of fire and he was made of ice. Sometimes… Yakov thought that had to be true- Victor being made of ice. 

Yakov didn’t understand what happened. The man standing in front of him was not the man he practically raised as his own son. This wasn’t the happy boy who played in the snow covered front yard at the age of 7. This wasn’t the cheerful boy who would skip to the breakfast table in the mornings before school at the age of 12. This wasn’t the joyous boy who would sing along to the radio in the passenger seat of the car as Yakov drove them both to the rink at the age of 16. 

This… this was a stranger to Yakov. And he didn’t know what to do. 

But at least he could postpone that dreaded, painful frown for a few more minutes.

“Fine. 10 more minutes. Just 10. Understand?” Yakov muttered, not meeting Victor’s eyes as he turned his body away from the unknown person. He didn’t get to see the relief that melted into Victor’s form. 

“Thank you Yakov. I swear I’ll be off the ice in 10 minutes.” Victor said politely, and Yakov just shook his head to himself, his heart aching in his chest. 

He made his way around the rink and past the locker rooms, trying to ignore the sound of blades scraping against ice. When he reached his office next to the skater’s lounge, he unlocked the door and stepped inside his small space. He made sure to shut the door behind him before shrugging off his coat and dropping into his desk chair. His chest felt heavy with worry for his skater, and he couldn’t focus as he read through his emails on the computer. 

That was until he got an email with the subject as  **_‘Katsuki Update’_ ** .

Yakov couldn’t help but to grimps as he remembered watching the young skater hit the ice with enough force to be knocked unconscious. His form had been horrible from the take off, and although he did manage to get the full rotations in, Yakov knew he wasn’t going to land it properly. 

Yakov clicked the email open, following the link that read  **‘Katsuki Yuuri of Japan Falls During Grand Prix Final, Tears ACL in Competition’** . He liked to keep up with all the professional skaters in the competitive circuits, as any good coach would do. He’d been watching Katsuki for a while now, and even used a video of his step sequence from a season ago to help Georgi with his own. 

The article was quick and to the point, sharing details that Yakov had been there to see himself. He glanced over the words, picking up the important tidbits- the torn ACL and the concussion. He also read Celestino’s comment about them being unsure of what Katsuki’s next move would be.

While Yakov didn’t actually know Celestino, he knew  _ of _ him. Celestino had been in the skating circuit for as long as Yakov could remember- first as a skilled singles skater representing Italy, and then as a smart coach in America. They’ve talked briefly here and there, ran into each other at a bar after competitions a number of times, but they were considered more acquaintances than friends. 

Celestino had some very skilled skaters skating under him. Katsuki Yuuri for one, but he also has an up-and-coming skater from Thailand. Phichit Chulanont is young, and has a lot of development to go through before he can be considered one of the best men’s skaters in the world, but he’s one of the few skaters out there that breathes optimism and potential. There’s something about him that captures the audience and the judges when he skates- Yakov would love to coach a skater like him. 

Yakov has had skaters under him get injured before. He’s been coaching for such a long time that he’s seen pretty much everything by now, he thinks. Luckily the FFKK provided the best doctors and physical therapists for the Russian National Skating Team. They had a state of the art arena for training, rinks that could rival Olympic rinks all over the world, and a rehabilitation center connected to the training building that was available at any time for the athletes. No skater ever wanted to get an injury of any degree, but if they did, the best place for it to happen would be in Russia. The FFKK usually only allowed for Russian skaters to use the facilities of the Russian National Team, but they have made exceptions upon Yakov’s request before. 

That got Yakov thinking…

Not even a full two days have passed since Katsuki Yuuri crashed to the ice. A torn ACL and a severe concussion resulted in his mistakes, and he needed somewhere to recover. 

Victor was having a hard time with his step sequences- something that Katsuki was known for being the best at in the whole league. 

Yuuri would be out of skating for at least 9 months, probably closer to a full year if Yakov were to make a guess. 

Yakov didn’t know how to help Victor any more, with his step sequences or with his stability. 

Yuuri might not even return to competitive skating ever again, but he still needed the physical therapy and surgery to return to a normal life. 

Yakov had access to the best physical therapist who specializes in ACL reconstruction and recovery…

Yakov’s hands moved faster than his brain. He had to work this out, make this happen before Celestino and Yuuri decided on something and flew back to America or Japan to get Yuuri’s recovery process going. The cold plastic of the phone was pressed up against Yakov’s ear as he jammed the buttons, dialing the extension to the rehab center. His leg bounced under the desk as he listened to the ringing, his eyes staring at the article still on the screen in front of him. This… if this worked out like Yakov believed it could… this could be exactly what Victor needed. 

The ringing of the phone stopped. A kind sounding voice answered. 

“Good Morning Yakov. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Oksana, tell me, what is your work looking like these days? Could you take on a long-case injured skater?”

\--

Turning off the shower head with a muted squeak, Victor wiped the water from his eyes and reached for the towel on the hook next to him. He shivered lightly as he wiped himself down, eventually wrapping the towel around his waist and stepping out of the bathing area. The air was freezing when he entered the locker room again, and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh as he slowly approached his opened locker. 

Victor did not want to go home. It was as simple as that. The quiet of his high rise apartment caused his mind to wander and his thoughts to get out of control. Even though he has been living in the space for going on 3 years, the place still felt too cold, too stale, too lacking. He needed to be somewhere else, somewhere that had something he could focus on. 

After toweling off a bit more, he began to dress in fresh clothes. He tugged the black turtle neck over his head, blowing some silver hair out of his eyes when his head popped out. The winters were rough in St. Petersburg, and a storm had blown in the night prior. A good 12 centimeters of snow lined the streets. Makkachin loved it, but Victor- not so much.

Now fully dressed in warm layers and fur boots, Victor cleaned up his space and tossed the dirty towel into the correct hamper. He gathered up his belongings, zipped up his duffle bag, and placed the lock on his locker, snapping it shut. He made sure to turn off the lights as he exited, and dragged his feet as he made his way to Yakov’s office. 

He didn’t bother knocking before cracking the door open. Yakov seemed to be on a very important phone call, talking to someone in Italian. Victor couldn’t make out any bits of the conversation, but seeing the serious look on Yakov’s face told him all he needed to know. He should not interrupt this exchange. Instead he sent his coach an innocent wave. Yakov grunted back at him, not bothering to lift his hand in a returning gesture. 

Victor closed the office door quietly behind him. Making his way to the front doors of the training facilities, he dug out his beanie from his bag. The temperature outside was below freezing, so he tugged on the knit hat and made sure all his platinum locks were tucked securely beneath the fabric before he stepped outside. 

Keeping his hands in his pockets and his head down, he walked the twenty minute trek to his apartment in the blink of an eye. He’d walked this exact same path so many times he couldn’t count. It was automatic by now, not having to look up to make a turn or stop at a street light. 

By the time he made it up the few steps leading to the lobby of his apartment building, Victor was shivering noticeably. He probably should have worn a scarf and mittens on his walk. He nodded politely to the doorman, trying to control the quiver of his lips. 

“Afternoon, Igor.” He spoke softly.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Nikiforov. I’ve heard you won another gold medal, well done!” Igor responded with a smile. He’s always been so kind to Victor, so caring. For some reason, it made Victor’s heart ache. 

“Thank you. Have a nice night.” 

After bowing his head in a quick greeting to Tatiana behind the managing desk, he swiftly crossed the silent lobby and stepped up to the elevator, pushing the button to call it down. Once the elevator doors opened up, he stepped inside, letting his shoulders droop again. He fished his keys out of his parka pocket, selecting the correct key and inserting it into the slot for his apartment: Loft 6. When he twisted the key slightly to the right, the elevator began moving, taking him to the top floor of the building. 

The elevator made it to the top of the building in no time, and after removing his keys, Victor stepped out the open door and directly into his home. Before he could even make another move, a fluffy brown head popped up from behind the arm of the sofa. With bright brown eyes and pink tongue lolling out of her mouth, Makkachin let out an excited  _ ‘boof’ _ . 

Victor’s smile felt real for the first time that day. 

“Hello Makka bear! Have you been a good girl while I was away? Hmm?” Victor greeted, dropping his skating bag and kneeling down on the hardwood of his floor. Makkachin launched herself off of the sofa and raced towards her papa, long ears billowing behind her. Her nails made a scratching noise on the ground as she attempted to stop in front of Victor. Not so successful, she plowed into her owner's chest, making him tip back onto his butt. 

Victor laughed happily, catching his poodle in his arms and tilting his head to avoid Makkachin’s slimy tongue coming in contact with his mouth. By the time he was able to get Makka to calm down, his cheeks were covered in drool. His skin felt sticky as he smiled, but he couldn’t stop when looking at his girl. 

“Such a silly girl.” He said, running his fingers through the curls on the top of her head, scratching gently in a manner that he knows Makka loves. She let out another  _ ‘boof’ _ , nuzzling her snout underneath Victor’s chin. 

A few hours later found Victor sitting on the sofa with his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of him. A plate with a picked-at leafy salad sat next to his feet, all the plain chicken eaten from the top. A home improvement show played quietly from the mantel above the crackling fire, and Makkachin snoozed on the other end of the couch. Just another night for 3 time world champion figure skater, Victor Nikiforov. 

His attention was jolted away from the 3 bedroom, 2 and a half bath fixer-upper when his phone pinged from where it was on his lap. With a lazy hand, Victor picked up his phone, swiping in to see a message from Christophe. 

_ >> Link to:  _ _ Katsuki Yuuri of Japan Falls During Grand Prix Final, Tears ACL in Competition. _

_ >> Did you see this live? I was still backstage when it happened. Goddamn he hit the ice HARD! _

Victor was there, actually. He’d already finished his skate and interviews, and was standing rinkside, working on untying his skates when Katsuki’s music began to play. Yakov had been going over his step sequence, pointing out where Victor stuttered or looked stiff. Victor wasn’t really listening all that well, more focused on figuring out who composed the music Yuuri was skating to. It was a beautiful piece and knowing how Katsuki usually skated, he would do it justice, no doubt. 

But only a minute into his program, Yuuri attempted a jump that he would, unfortunately, not land. Victor and Yakov watched it happen, both letting out a gasp when Katsuki’s head hit the ice with enough force to make a loud echo. Victor reached out and grasped Yakovs forearm, not knowing what to do. He wasn’t getting up. Yuuri wasn’t even  _ moving _ . He couldn’t help but to shiver as he thought about it. 

_ << Yeah, I was there. Saw it happen.  _

_ << Poor guy! I wonder if he’ll retire or attempt to come back.  _

Victor wouldn’t be surprised if Katsuki chose to retire. Although he was young, and this was just his first appearance in the Grand Prix Final, ACL tears were hard to come back from for any skater. He’d need so much therapy and a serious surgery, not to mention motivation and support. 

_ >> Hope he comes back. After some research, I’ve decided that if he was able to get his jumps under control, he could really give you some competition. How fun would that be? _

_ >> And he’s kinda hot. Wouldn’t mind seeing him around for a couple more years. _

Victor rolled his eyes, letting out a snort that made Makkachin lift her head and look over at him for a moment. He reached out, scratching at her back to reassure her that she wasn’t missing anything.

Chris wasn’t wrong, about either of his points. Katsuki was a very skilled skater and his step sequences were the best in the league by leaps and bounds- so intricate, quick, and precise. He was a very smart skater, everything he performed was well thought out and meaningful. His style was different than Victors, less focused on surprising the audience and more focused on showing the audience what they already knew- that he was good. His skating brought on feelings of comfort and familiarity- almost like the feeling of coming home. If he could master his jumps… Victor wouldn’t be standing on that top podium for much longer.

And yeah, Victor’s agreed with the second part too.

\--

Victor didn’t go into the rink the next day. Not wanting to deal with Yakov’s pestering, he opted to sleep in, take Makka on a long run down the river, and watch a whole season of a murder mystery show. 

But the day after that, Victor was the first one to the rink. Luckily, Yakov had given him a key of his own many years ago. He used it to let himself in, flipping on all of the lights. The cool air coming from the ice danced on his pale skin, woke up his senses. 

Now he was doing lazy laps, looking around at the very much alive skating facility. Yuri was on the ice as well, yelling at Mila who continued to pull at different strands of his shoulder length blonde hair. Mila’s laugh echoed through the big room, drowning out the light music playing over the sound system. 

“Stop it, you hag!” Yuri snarled, attempting to skate away from her. She just followed him, a devious smile on her bright red lips. 

Georgie was standing outside of the skater’s lounge, the skates on his feet covered by skate guards, and was stuffing a protein bar into his mouth. Vanessa and Teterin, the pair skaters of the National Team, were on the bench next to the rink, tying on their skates while arguing quietly with each other. Little Larisa, the eleven year old novice skater, was just coming out of the locker rooms, tugging nervously on the sleeves of her zip up. 

Yakov was in his office, but soon he would come out and start the group conditioning. After that he would move onto individual lessons for each skater or pair. To finish out the day, Victor would head to the gym, working with the team trainer for a few hours before throwing in the towel and turning in for the night. 

The whole room turned and looked when one of the front doors cracked open, allowing blazing white sunlight to stream into the room and over the rugs leading to the rink. Everyone on the Russian National Team was present, doing their own things to prepare for the grueling session that Yakov would no doubt put them all through. No one else was supposed to show up for at least another few hours. 

When Victor spun on his skates to see who had entered the building, he couldn’t immediately tell who it was. It was a man, that was for sure- about average height if he hadn’t been slumping his shoulders in so much. His head was covered by the hood of his way too thin jacket, and even though his face was pointedly looking down at the floor beneath him, it was obvious that he was sporting a pair of dark sunglasses. Victor couldn’t even make a guess of who this man was… that is, until he saw him walk. 

The man walked with a serious limp, favoring his left side so much that it made Victor cringe. It was clear how much pain the man was in as he hobbled up to Larisa. The young girl looked up at the stranger confused, wondering along with everyone else in the room who exactly this man was and what he was doing here so early in the morning. The man spoke quietly with Larisa, so quiet that no one else was able to make out the conversation. Larisa pointed in the direction of the rehab center and the man gave her a respectful bow, gimping away towards the glass doors past Yakov’s office. 

From where he was on the far side of the rink, Victor took off at a high speed, racing past Yuri and Mila to the entrance of the ice. Realization was washing over him, and he had to make sense of the situation before him. Yuri grumbled at him to watch out and Mila yelled after him as he stepped off the ice, reaching for his readily available golden skate guards that were resting on the wall of the rink. 

“Victor? Where are you going?”

Ignoring her question and snapping on the skate guards as fast as he could, he practically ran to Yakov’s office. The rest of the team was watching him like he was crazy, but he couldn’t care less. When he reached Yakov’s door, he gripped the cold doorknob and threw it open, not even wincing when the door slammed against the wall. Yakov jumped in his chair in surprise, shooting his gaze at Victor and immediately schooled his face into an annoyed scowl. 

“Vict-”

“What is Katsuki Yuuri doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! Thank you so much for reading! Please leave comments- they feed my quarantined, anxious soul :)


	3. Lilly Or Lori...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! As you can probably tell, I don't have a consistent posting schedule for this story. Sorry about that :) 
> 
> Also, no beta so all mistakes are my own! 
> 
> Enjoy chapter 3 my dears <3

Yuuri had absolutely no idea what he had been thinking when he accepted Yakov Feltsman’s offer to go through his surgery and rehab process with the Russian National Team’s services. At the time, when discussing with Celestino and Phichit, it had felt like a blessing. Mr. Feltsman had been able to strike a deal between the FFKK and the JSF which allowed Yuuri to recover completely in Russia with the best services possible while the JSF would cover all the costs from medical to housing. The Russian National Team had the best facilities and medical staff in the world, and Yuuri wouldn’t have to fly the absurd amount of time to either Japan or America in such an uncomfortable state. It seemed like a huge win, so he flew to St. Petersburg two days later. 

It was when he actually arrived that he realized how little he had really thought about this decision. 

First of all, he didn’t speak Russian at all. Or read Russian, for that matter. Immediately when he stepped off the plane and saw all the airport signs in Cryllic, he knew he had made a mistake. Thankfully he was able to find his bag and an exit by following the crowd. He had a bit of trouble flagging down a taxi, but the real trouble came when the black cab finally pulled up next to him. Not being able to communicate with the driver proved to be a problem, and after a good amount of anxious fumbling, Yuuri thought to pull out his phone and show the man where he wanted to go. The check in process to his condo hadn’t been any easier. 

Secondly, Yuuri didn’t have any of his things. Since he came here straight from the competition in Amsterdam, all he had was 4 days worth of training clothes, the slightly tattered costume from his free skate, his skates, and the suit he was supposed to have worn to the post-final banquet. He’d be here in St. Petersburg for around a year. Phichit and Celestino said that they would pack up Yuuri’s belongings when they got back to Detroit and priority ship them to Russia, but that would for sure take a while to arrive. Hell, Yuuri didn’t even have a proper winter coat with him- and he didn’t want to buy one because his own would be coming in with the rest of his stuff. But it was way too cold for just the training jackets he had with him. There was even snow on the ground! And how was he supposed to go shopping?

And finally, and maybe the point that induced the most anxiety for Yuuri, was the fact that he was alone. He knew absolutely no one in this foreign country. He knew of the Russian National Skating Team, but he’s never actually talked to any of them. Well- bar Yuri Plisetski- who yelled at him in the bathroom right before his devastating free skate, claiming that there could only be one ‘yuri’ when he entered the men’s league next year. But Yuuri hadn’t really responded to him during that interaction, too much in shock to say anything at the time. Looks like Yuri got exactly what he wanted. The irony did not go over Yuuri’s head. 

Yuuri was about to go through a tough and painful surgery and recovery process all on his own. He wouldn’t have anyone to encourage him to do his rehab. He wouldn’t have anyone to remind him not to eat or drink anything other than water for 12 hours before the surgery. He wouldn’t have anyone to hold his hand and preach that everything was going to be okay when the anesthesia was kicking in before he went under the knife. He wouldn’t even have anyone to bring him home after the surgery was complete and the sleep wore off. 

That… That was the worst part for Yuuri. 

Jetlag wasn’t giving Yuuri any breaks either. He arrived at his condo around 2 in the morning. He knew that he should try to get some sleep in an attempt to transition into the time zone, so he settled on taking a hot, wobbly shower. The warm water splashing onto his numb body helped to calm some of his anxieties, but did little to make him sleepy. 

He tossed and turned in bed for a few hours before finally giving up, pushing the covers back and sitting up in frustration. His mind was running a million kilometers per minute and his heart was thumping to the same speed. He could feel anxiety creeping up his throat again, and he ran his fingers through his damp hair in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. 

Risking a glance at his extremely bright phone in the pitch black of the bedroom, and ignoring the ache of protest his head gave him in response, he calculated the last time he took his medication. It was just about 6 hours after his last dose, so he grabbed the bottle from the bedside table and spilled out the appropriate amount of pain pills into his hand. After he swallowed those down, Yuuri reluctantly reached for his anxiety medication.

He still struggled with taking his anxiety medication after all this time. Celestino had recommended him seeing a therapist for his nerves a week after he first arrived in Detroit to train and attend school. His therapist had put him on daily anxiety pills that first session. Realistically, Yuuri knew he needed them. Knew that they would help put him at ease and make him feel better all together. But taking that step had been scary for him. 

Yuuri squeezed the orange plastic bottle tighter in his palm, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Usually when Yuuri felt the best, he stopped taking his meds. He figured that if he wasn’t feeling the anxiety, then he didn’t need to be taking the pills. In reality, that was the worst thing he could do. Medication withdrawal would hit Yuuri hard a few days later, and he would have such a large panic attack that he’d be forced to take a dose at an odd time. He wasn’t going to do that this time. While feeling the lowest he’s ever felt in his life, he was going to do this right.

Yuuri swallowed down the small purple pill with a large gulp of water. He then set the bottle back on his table, leaving it by his pain pills until his next dose tomorrow morning.

\--

Out the window of the surprisingly clean cab, the warm sun was rising slowly over the Neva River. Or so the (luckily) English speaking cab driver told Yuuri while turning down the stereo. The orange rays sparkled and danced on the dark blue of the water, waves rippling with the wind. Even though there was snow on the ground, the driver explained to Yuuri that it would still be a few weeks before the river froze over completely. 

The ride was short from Yuuri’s condo to the Champion Sports Club. It would probably be about a twenty-five minute walk if Yuuri was able, but he’d have to take a cab or a bus for a long while. The building that they pulled up to was more pristine than anything Yuuri saw in Detroit. The whole exterior was a stark white color where there weren't large, tinted windows. The doors were clear glass and there was a concrete staircase leading up from the sidewalk. Even the building was intimidating. 

“Here boy. Enjoy your time in Russia.” The driver spoke in choppy english.

Yuuri, having already swiped the JSF authorised credit card at the beginning of the ride, bowed deeply in the backseat, muttering a soft ‘thank you’. He pushed open the car door and stepped out onto the shoveled sidewalk. After shutting the door, the cab pulled away quickly, on its way to another pedestrian no doubt. 

Yuuri pulled the hood up of his thin grey jacket in an attempt to stay a bit warmer. Yuuri was used to the cold between living in Hasetsu and Detroit, but Russia was a whole nother type of cold. It licked at every inch of his skin and seeped into his bones instantly. Yeah, he really needed to get a warmer jacket. Quickly. 

As he made his way gimping up the steps to the building, Yuuri slipped the dark sunglasses out from his pocket and onto his face. Any type of light has been hard on Yuuri’s head due to his concussion, so the artificial lights of a skating rink were to be a very promising source of pain for him. Another plus of the sunglasses was that they covered his face. Between the concussion, pain, and lack of sleep, Yuuri was sure he looked like hell.

Once he made it up the many steps and to the glass door, he took a deep breath. His fingers began to lightly scratch at his already sore palms. He could do this. He had to do this. He would walk inside, ignore everyone else, and go straight towards the rehab center. Once his palms felt raw, and he couldn’t bear the cold anymore, he pulled open one of the doors. 

Inside was marginally warmer than outside, but the chill still stayed with Yuuri as the door slowly shut behind him. He immediately noticed all the skaters in the arena. Of course the whole Russian national team was here for training. Yuuri didn’t know how the thought had slipped from his mind. He had irrationally hoped to be the first one to the facility, but apparently he wasn’t so lucky. 

With a quick look around, Yuuri discovered that he had absolutely no idea where to go. He couldn’t spot a door that clearly led to the rehab center. Desperately he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck underneath his hood. To his right, a little girl came out of what he guessed was the locker rooms. She was obviously on the juniors national team, and Yuuri kind of recognized her face from watching the Junior Grand Prix Final. Lilly or Lori… He couldn’t remember exactly. 

“Hey!” He spoke quickly, putting a hand up to catch her attention. He limped a few steps closer to her, feeling relief when she stopped and looked up at him. Her fingers played nervously with the sleeves of her jacket and she gave him a funny look. 

“Uh hi?” She spoke in clean English, glancing around at her rink mates.

“Hi. Could you tell me where the door to the rehab center is? Please?” Yuuri asked quietly, not wanting anyone else in the room to hear. He made sure to sound as kind as possible, not wanting to scare the young girl. 

Lilly or Lori looked at Yuuri a bit skeptically, but proceeded to point a finger towards an entrance past a closed wooden door. Yuuri smiled, nodding his head quickly. He dipped into a shallow bow and thanked her repeatedly. Making his way around the girl, and keeping his head down towards the rug he was walking on, he approached the open entrance. Steeling himself for whatever may happen inside, he took the necessary first step towards his recovery.

\--

“Vitya, calm down.”

“No! Not until you tell me why Katsuki Yuuri just walked in through the front doors and headed towards the rehab center!”

Yakov sighed, running a hand over his eyes. He knew that Victor would overreact. That is precisely why he avoided having this conversation with him until, apparently, right now. Before Victor could continue another word, Yakov put up his hand and stood up behind his desk. 

“Take a seat.”

As Victor did what he was told, folding into one of the cushioned chairs in front of his coach’s desk, Yakov walked around him and to the door. He took a step past the threshold, holding onto the door frame on either side of him with a tight grip. 

“Ey! Everyone do 6 warm up laps forwards and then 6 backwards. If I see anyone slacking when I come out, I will double suicides today.” He yelled to his students in Russian, scowling when he saw Yuri on Mila’s back. Mila immediately dropped him and Yuri fell to the ice with a screech. Georgie hopped over the edge of the rink, landing easily and starting his first lap skating forwards. 

“Got it coach!”

Closing the door behind him, Yakov walked back around his desk, dropping into his chair. He rested his arms in front of him, intertwining his fingers and looking at Victor. He needed to approach this carefully, making sure to pose Katsuki being here as a good thing and not as an insult to Victor’s skating. 

“I invited Katsuki here to work with Oksana. You know that Oksana specializes in ACL tears and that she’s the best there is. He’ll work with her before and after his surgery.” Yakov started off.

Victor rolled his eyes and nodded. 

“I know that, Yakov. I mean why did you invite him? What’s the catch? Why go through all the work with Oksana and the FFKK to get Katsuki here?” 

Yeah, Victor was smart. Smarter than Yakov wanted him to be sometimes. Taking a quick glance at the ceiling, he decided to bite the bullet, to get it over with. 

“Look, Vitya, I had him come here to help. You know his step sequences are the best in the league. I’ve used multiple videos of him to help some other skaters on the team, and now I want him to help you. I’m hoping he can aid in strengthening your step sequence enough that you can score a 4 for that element. If anyone can help you with that, it’s him.”

Victor stayed quiet, his jaw locked and his legs crossed tightly, one over the other. He was processing the information, clearly, and Yakov hoped he wouldn’t reject this opportunity. After a few silent minutes, he responded. 

“What’s in it for him?”

Yakov huffed out a dry laugh. 

“Oksana. Rehab in the best facility available. I also said that I’d help him with his jumps when he’s able to fully return, but I doubt he’ll ever come back to competitive skating. He’d be insane to even try with an injury like that.”

Victor stared at Yakov as he talked, slowly nodding his head. He had an empty look in his eyes, and his shoulders were hunched in just a bit. It was the sight that worried Yakov the most. 

“Okay. When can I start with him?”

“I have him coming to our one-on-one today at 2. I’m not sure if he’ll get straight into training with you or what. We haven’t discussed the details.”

Victor got up quickly, surprising Yakov. He nodded again before turning and going towards the door. After pulling it open, he looked over his shoulder, a twinkle in his eye. 

“Georgie’s sitting on the edge of the rink again.” He tattled with a smirk before winking and walking off towards the ice to start his own laps.

“GEORGIE!!!”

\--

“You must be Katsuki Yuuri. Hello, I’m Dr. Oksana Morozova, but you can call me Oksana.”

Oksana spoke in a kind voice, smiling gently at the young boy infront of her. He was smaller than she was expecting, and looked a lot worse than the picture on his skating profile. As Yuuri quickly took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket, Oksana noticed the prominent dark bags under his eyes. She also notices the big, swollen bruise on the right side of his forehead. If she was correct, the bruise would slowly move into his right eye as well, giving him a blackeye in a few days time. 

Yuuri’s hand was freezing in Oksana’s as he shook it in greeting, dipping into a low bow in respect. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Dr. Morozova- I mean Oksana. Thank you so much for taking me on as a patient.”

Oksana waited until Yuuri came out of the bow to speak again. Once he did, she smiled a kind smile, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder and moving him along through the door of the waiting room.

“It’s no problem at all, Yuuri. I look forward to working with you and getting you all healed up and back on the ice as quickly as possible. Fully recovered, of course.”

As they walked through the doors to the actual clinic, Yuuri’s limp was very obvious. It wasn’t unusual for someone who tore their ACL to have a limp, but it was pretty uncommon for the limp to be as bad as Yuuri’s. Oksana motioned him to step into the first room on his left. He immediately sat on the plastic clinic bed, and she shut the door behind them. 

“I’ll need to get your weight and height in a minute, but I wanted to talk a bit first. Get to know you and your injury more. What do you say?”

Yuuri shrugged his shoulders.

“Sure.”

Oksana smiled and sat down onto the low, round chair in front of the laptop. She quickly logged into the clinic’s database and pulled up Yuuri’s skating and health profiles. She pulled the laptop off the small desk and put it on her lap, spinning the chair to face her patient. 

“Alright then, Yuuri. It says here that you’ve been skating for a while. When did you start?”

Moving into things slowly has always been the most successful approach for Oksana. When people came to her injured and at rock bottom, they were tense, anxious, and distraught. The best way to ease them out of it was to take them back to their roots, warm them up by sharing information about herself as well. 

“I started skating when I was 8, but I began dancing ballet two years before that. I got into the Junior leagues when I was 14 and then into Seniors when I turned 19.” Yuuri spoke like he’s given this exact answer at least a hundred times before. He probably has in all his interviews, Oksana supposed. She typed notes absently on the computer as she listened, eyes glancing back and forth between Yuuri and the screen. 

“That’s quite a long time. You must be very passionate about skating considering you’ve been doing it for so many years. You know, funnily enough, I’ve never even put on a pair of ice skates. I mostly work with professional ice skaters, but I have never stepped on the ice myself.” Oksana spoke, looking up at Yuuri with a small smile playing on her lips. 

Yuuri’s eyebrows furrowed as he twiddled his thumbs in his lap. A bit of shiny black hair fell in front of one warm brown eye, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Why’s that?” He questioned quietly. 

Oksana ran her hands over her jean covered knees. The laptop tilted unevenly on her thighs, and she shifted a bit on the seat to even it back out. She pursed her lips, tilting her head.

“You know, I’m not sure. Maybe my fear of failure. Or my fear of falling. Either way, I’ve just never really gotten around to it.” She was about to ask Yuuri another question, moving along the appointment in order to figure out the best pre-surgery rehab program for him, when he spoke in a shy tone.

“Well, you know… I- I could bring you sometime. Um, when I can skate again.”

With a sly smirk, Oksana placed the laptop back on the counter and stood up. 

“You should know that I’m happily married, Yuuri. We’re celebrating a year next month.”

As Oksana turned back around to face her patient, she couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Yuuri’s cheeks were bright red and his eyes were wide open in panic. He waved his hands desperately in front of him, stuttering anxiously. 

“No! Dr. Morozova, that’s not what I meant at all! Really, I was just being polite- I mean we are going to be spending a lot of time together so I thought that- that maybe you’d want to learn how to skate and-”

“Oh calm down, calm down… I was just teasing you, Yuuri. I’d like to learn how to skate, and I can’t imagine a better teacher than a professional skater like you. Now sit up straight while I listen to your heart.”

Oksana cut her panicking patient off with a laugh, unwrapping the stethoscope from around her neck. As Yuuri let out a huff in relief, a smile washed over his face, and Oksana knew that they’d work together just fine. 

\--

Yuuri followed Oksana back into the Champion Sports Club, stomach full of hot soup and smile genuine for the first time in a long time. He was still freezing from the cold Russian winter, he was still in pain and his head still rang, but talking and spending time with Oksana was making him feel a bit better. Usually Yuuri wasn’t a huge fan of human contact, but apparently his anxiety desired otherwise. 

Oksana was nothing like what Yuuri had been expecting. When Celestino told him about the internationally ranked physical therapist he would be working with, Yuuri was expecting an older, sterner woman. He wasn’t expecting the 31 year old woman walking in front of him. He wasn’t expecting the stylish, auburn shoulder length hair or the slim fit figure. He wasn’t expecting the skinny jeans or the hot pink sweater. And he definitely was not expecting to go out to lunch with her on the first day they met. 

They worked on getting his pre-surgery rehab program together all morning long. Multiple tests, x-rays, and exams later, Oksana had the information she needed and she would work on creating the program this afternoon. 

After they finished up, it was around half twelve and both of them were starving. Yuuri mentioned how he had no idea where to go for food yet, pretty much just talking to himself in the way that people thought out loud sometimes. Oksana insisted that they go get food together, informing Yuuri that right around the corner there was a center area with multiple different food places. Knowing that it would be good for him to know the area a bit more, and wanting to get to know Oksana better, Yuuri agreed with a small smile. 

The soup was delicious. Warm and thick on Yuuri’s tongue and exactly what he needed to chase the chill off his bones. The shop had been cozy too, small tables arranged around a grand fireplace with a roaring flame. Although the place had been a bit busy during the lunch hour, they’d found a table easily and the service was quick. Oksana had ordered for the both of them in Russian, and Yuuri had no idea what he was getting until the bowl of steaming, green soup was placed in front of him. 

Oksana and Yuuri talked all throughout the meal, getting to know each other more. Yuuri learned that Oksana was married to a French man named Gabriel, and that they met in Paris during a conference 4 years ago. Gabriel was an X-ray technician who worked at the local hospital in downtown St. Petersburg. 

When Oksana asked about Yuuri’s family, he told her all about his parents and his sister back home running the Onsen. He tended to ramble a bit when talking about his family, but Oksana didn’t seem to mind, smiling and sipping her black tea. He went on about how good of a cook his mother was, how quietly funny his father was, and how stubborn and kind his sister was. Talking about his people back home in Japan made him miss them more, but it also felt good to speak so openly and honestly- letting someone else get a glimpse into the life he held so close to his heart. 

They arrived back to the sports club an hour later, cheeks flushed from the cold wind. Once they got inside the front door, they both stomped their feet to rid any snow from treking into the building with them. Yuuri pulled the hood off his head before huffing a warm breath into his hands in an attempt to heat them up. 

“You really need a warmer jacket than that, Yuuri.” Oksana spoke with a smile, pulling off her knit mittens and shoving them into her coat pockets. She unzipped her jacket then, running her hands over her torso to straighten out her sweater.

Yuuri chuckled, shaking his head and taking the sunglasses off his face. He tucked them into the pocket of his thin zip-up, shaking his right foot to get the last of the slush off his trainer. 

“Trust me, a thick coat is the first thing on my shopping list.”

After checking the time on his phone, he realized that it was about time that he had to report to Mr. Feltsman. He frowned, feeling the anxiety that had momentarily vacated him creep back into his system. This was the part of the whole deal that he felt the most unsteady about. He’d never really worked with other skaters besides Phichit before, and wasn’t sure if he’d make a good trainer. Phichit always listened to and appreciated his comments, but Phichit was his best friend and rink mate. They helped each other. 

Yuuri just couldn’t understand why Mr. Feltsman wanted him to work with skaters from the Russian National Team in the first place. Didn’t he see Yuuri’s last competition? How he messed up his skate and landed himself on the sidelines for at least nine months? Yuuri wasn’t a model skater in the least, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to help skaters who were obviously better than him.

“Alright then, I better be off. I’ve got a lot of work to do this afternoon preparing your rehab program and all. Why don’t you come into the center at 8 tomorrow morning and we’ll get started then.” Oksana said with a smile, interrupting his negative thoughts. Yurri tried to shake the nerves out of his cold hands, but his nails still dug into the tender skin of his palms, scratching automatically. He gave her a weak smile. 

“I’ll be here. Thank you Oksana. Have a good night.” Yuuri said politely, bowing again at his doctor. She gave him a small wave before leaving his side, pulling out her phone as she made her way back towards the rehab center. Yuuri watched her until she went through the entrance, disappearing from his line of sight. 

He stood in place for a few minutes, breathing slowly in and out. This- Yuuri helping Yakov with his students- was non-negotiable. He wasn’t going to get out of this, it was one of the conditions of him being here, so he had to make peace with it. Or well… he had to go through with it, anyway. 

Glancing around him, he noticed that the pair skaters of the national team were on the rink at the moment. Vanessa Petrina and Teterin Semenov whizzed around the ice, working on getting their step sequence perfectly in sink. Another coach whom Yuuri vaguely recognized was calling out moves, watching intently as the pair twirled into a spread eagle. Teterin entered the spread eagle a mere second behind Vanessa, obvious fatigue wearing on his form. Their coach flipped off the music on the overhead loudspeaker, demanding them to stop and start over. Vanessa rolled her eyes while settling her hands on her hips, curling around and heading back to their starting position. Teterin took a second to put his hands on his knees, hanging his head while trying to catch his breath. He was clearly exhausted, and Yuuri felt sorry for him. Sometimes your body just isn’t able to do what your mind wants. 

Yuuri knew that he was running out of time and had to move his feet in order to not be late. One last quick glance at the rink just as the pair skaters were starting again and Yuuri dived in, making his way towards the door reading ‘Yakov Feltsman - Russian National Team Head Coach’. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments if you have any to share! They mean so much to me it's crazy! They really do motivate a writer :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Stay tuned!


	4. Mahogany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi peeps!!! Here is the next chapter... AND THEY FINALLY MEET!!! I hope you love this one as much as I do <3 Please leave comments - again, they feed my poor, quarantined soul :)

Yuuri wasn’t wearing his glasses. That had to be the explanation. He couldn’t be seeing this correctly…

Knocking on the closed wooden door in front of him, he couldn’t help but to hear what sounded like an angry conversation in Russian. As if he hadn’t been nervous enough, the obvious bickering was making his hands shake even more. 

“Come in!” A gruff voice shouted, and Yuuri jumped a bit in surprise. 

Taking a deep breath and willing his hands to stop quivering at his sides, Yuuri carefully turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly. The room went silent, the fight clearly put on pause for the moment, but he could literally feel the tension in the air. 

His heart rate really picked up, though, when he saw the scene in the office. 

Yakov Feltsman sat behind the old oak desk, arms crossed over his chest and face flushed. His brows were furrowed- a sign that he was angry but trying hard not to show it. There were two figures already sitting in the set of chairs in front of his desk. To the left was a smaller figure, silhouette stiff and hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head. Anger radiated off his body, and his hands clutched at the arms of the chair. Yuuri couldn’t exactly tell who it was- but he had a strong inkling that it was Yuri Plitsetsky. Not many small, Russian figure skaters put off an aura like his. And in the other chair was-... Yuuri’s breath caught in his own throat. 

Victor Nikiforov sat in the other chair, glancing over his shoulder to where Yuuri stood in the doorway. His expression was one of content boredom, like he didn’t care about whatever Yakov and Yuri had been fighting about, but was very much used to hearing arguments between the pair. His long legs were crossed one over the other, fine silver bangs falling in front of one eye. Victor’s eyebrows raised a bit as he took in the sight standing at the door.

Yuuri quickly diverted his eyes back to Yakov, and had to clear his throat before even making an attempt to speak.

“I-I’m sorry… am I early?” He stuttered out. He felt awkward, having obviously walked in on an important meeting that he had nothing to do with. Yakov probably wanted to meet with him after he finished with his skaters… right? There was no way that he was meant to join this meeting with Yuri Plitsetsky and Victor Nikiforov. 

“No, no. Come in, Katsuki, you’re right on time.” Yavok said, uncrossing his arms and waving a hand, motioning for Yuuri to step into the office. 

Yuuri’s jaw dropped for a moment, eyes flitting quickly from Yakov, to Yuri, to Victor, and then back to Yakov. He closed his mouth and swallowed a few times, forcing a nod and quietly shutting the door behind himself. His hands shook worse than before, and he desperately dug his nails into his palms in an attempt to make them stop. After one more deep breath, Yuuri turned back around to face the others. 

The only open seat in the room was an out-of-place folding chair set up next to Yakov. It had clearly been brought into the office for this meeting. Yuuri was reluctant to move, waiting for permission to take the seat. 

When Yavok gestured to the chair with a nod, Yuuri made his way over, trying his best to lessen the obviousness of his limp. After taking a seat on the cold metal, he leaned back with a small blush. He was adamant to keep his gaze away from meeting anyone else’s eyes in the room, held tilted down and sight trained on the linoleum tiles of the floor. 

“Katsuki Yuuri, these are the students of mine that you will be working with, Victor Nikiforov and Yuri Plitsetski. Boys, I’m sure you know Katsuki Yuuri. He’ll be here for a while recovering and agreed to help me with improving both of your step sequences.” Yakov grumbled, looking towards Yuri with a sharp eye. 

Those words made Yuuri’s head shoot up immediately.  _ These are the skaters I will be working with!?  _ His eyes shot to Yakov, but in the midst of his shocked reaction, he caught blue eyes focused in his direction. Like a magnet to a kitchen refrigerator, his eyes pulled away from Yakov and went straight to the ones that resembled ice. 

Victor Nikiforov was staring at him with a look that Yuuri couldn’t decipher the meaning of. While it made his heart thud hard and the back of his neck gather a small amount of sweat, the look not only resembled ice in color, but also in feel. It… it wasn’t what Yuuri had been expecting to see in the eyes of his idol when he first got the opportunity to view them in person. Honestly, he hadn’t really known what he was expecting… but this was definitely not it. 

As Victor continued to stare at him, Yuuri didn’t know what to say. It felt like hours since they first locked eyes, and he should say something, shouldn’t he? He couldn’t just continue staring into the icy void of  _ the _ Victor Nikiforov’s eyes. He couldn’t keep staring at those long, silver eyelashes that batted over the blue every few moments. He couldn’t keep staring at those meticulously sculpted eyebrows that stood out against the pale, clean skin of his forehead. He couldn’t keep staring at the faint lines that infiltrated the perfect skin between his eyes, showing that maybe, contrary to what the whole world may think, Victor might have felt some sort of stress or pressure throughout the course of his professional career. 

Yuuri could see something change in Victor’s eyes. Quickly, and with unknown warrant, something changed and the eyes looked less cold, less fosted. Then, rose colored lips were parting, and something sparked in those eyes. Yuuri waited, clutching at the edges of his seat in anticipation of what may slip from his idol’s mouth. 

“I don’t know why you're having  _ him _ , of all people, help us out. I mean, you saw his last competition as clearly as I did. He can’t even land a triple, Yakov.” Yuri muttered in an angry voice, effectively cutting off Victor's unknown words and the erratic beating of Yuuri’s heart. 

Victor’s eyebrows shot up and he let out a soft gasp, his head whipping to look at his angry counterpart. Yuuri followed in tow, looking over at the angsty teenager. Yuuri’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest. And while his words carried an intended strike to Yuuri’s confidence, his face wasn’t so brave. Yes, he still looked angry and annoyed, but he also looked awkward and a bit guilty, almost like he couldn’t believe that he had actually said those words out loud. 

And Yuuri was surprised that he said them too. He wasn’t actually that hurt by the words. Yuuri was well aware of Yuri’s tendency to have a hard exterior and a sharp tongue. He was more surprised that Yuri spoke the exact thoughts inside his own head. He  _ still _ didn’t know what to stay, but it turns out he didn’t need to be the next one to speak.

“Yura! How dare you speak that way!? Do you have no respect?” Yakov said through gritted teeth, face turning the same shade as a tomato. He stared at Yuri with such intensity and disapproval in his gaze that Yuuri himself started to feel a bit guilty. 

“No, no, Yakov, it’s alright,” Yuuri spoke up in a quiet tone, wanting the awkward feel in the room to vacate and never come back. “It’s uh… it’s very nice to meet you both.”

“And it’s very nice to officially meet you too, Yuuri. We are  _ both _ very excited to learn from you.” Victor spoke up, tearing his glare away from the boy sitting next to him. When the icy blue met the warm brown again, Victor gave Yuuri a small smile. Probably as an apology of sorts. 

The soft upturn of those rose lips took the breath away from Yuuri’s own. He had never reacted in this way to a smile- and not even a full smile, at that- before. It was weird, and he didn’t exactly know what to think about it. 

“I’m sorry about him Yuuri. He will get himself into shape and be very respectful during your lessons together, I assure you. Now, we should discuss the details. I’ve spoken with Oksana about your rehab schedule, Yuuri, and we have agreed on a two hour time period between two and four in the afternoon where you can train both Victor and Yuri respectively. So I believe…”

Sensibly, Yuuri knew that he should be paying attention to what Yakov was saying. He was working for him now, and he had to be aware of this information. But… Well, Yuuri couldn’t help it when his eyes drifted back to the silver haired man who was a long time idol of his. It was like their eyes were opposite magnets, because the frosty eyes were back on him too. Victor gave him another tiny smile, and this time, Yuuri was able to give him a miniscule one back.

\--

Victor had never seen eyes that were so warm. Katsuki Yuuri’s eyes radiated a heat that Victor didn’t even feel on the hottest of Russian summer days. They were a peculiar color. Deep, dark brown that reminded Victor of Makkachin’s curls. But inside those brown eyes lived swirls of mahogany. 

None of the eyes in Victor’s life looked, or felt, like those of Yuuri’s. Yakov had eyes the color of hard rock. Yuri’s the color of a forest full of moss. Mila’s eyes looked like the cold water of a stream. 

Yuuri’s… Yuuri’s eyes were  _ beautiful _ . 

“Both Victor and Yuri have been having issues with their step sequences. Neither of them are ever able to get a clean GEO- always scoring under level 4. I’m hoping you can help them improve- since I can’t seem to get them there on my own.”

Yakov’s voice continued to carry throughout the room, a dull noise in Victor’s ears. He wasn’t paying attention to the conversation going on around him. How could he when the most enrapturing man he’s ever seen just came limping into his life? 

But Yuuri looked nervous. There was a constant squint to his eyes, dark eyebrows furrowed, emphasizing the purple bruise that was blooming on his forehead underneath his bangs. His sharp, white teeth were insistently nipping at his dull pink bottom lip, and a rosy blush stayed permanent on his slightly chubby cheeks. 

He looked so nervous in fact, that it was starting to make Victor himself feel nervous. Should he feel nervous about this? Was he unaware of something bigger that he should be nervous about?

“Does all of that sound good for you Katsuki? If so, I’d like you to start with them as soon as possible- hopefully tomorrow. Do you have any questions for me?” Yakov drew on and Yuuri immediately shook his head, black choppy fringe flopping on his forehead. His hands clutched at the edges of the metal folding chair he was seated on, and he licked his lips before starting to speak. 

“That all sounds good to me, sir. I am available to start tomorrow as long as Oksana clears the time from my rehab.” Yuuri spoke formally with an abundance of respect in his soft voice. He blinked rapidly, keeping his eyes trained on Yakov. 

“Great. Then I think we are finished here. Have a good night, Katsuki.” Yakov excused him, and Victor had never seen anyone stand up so fast- which turned out to be a truly bad idea on Yuuri’s part. He immediately winced with a sharp breath pulled in through his clenched teeth, and he fell back onto the chair with a dull thud. His eyes snapped shut and his hands reached out to his right knee, cradling the inside of the joint in gentle hands. A sigh escaped his mouth and he shook his head to himself, a sardonic smile molding onto his face. 

Victor was worried, shooting up from the chair himself. His arms were stretched out in a way that allowed him to catch Yuuri if anything else went wrong. He felt silly, but the concern he felt for the man across from him outweighed everything else. 

“Sorry… Sorry. I’m still not used to my legs not working like they did before the accident. I’m fine, really. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Yuuri said slowly, avoiding any sort of eye contact as he attempted to stand up again- this time at a pace resembling that of a turtle. He flashed Victor a weak smile, void of any eye contact, before shuffling around him and to the door. 

It was only when the oak door swung shut in the office that Victor retired back into his chair, looking over to Yakov. 

“Alright boys, what do you think? And before you say anything, Yuri, I want you to realize that Katsuki has been awarded a perfect score on every single one of his competition step sequences since he turned 17. I don’t care if you don’t like him for some reason, but you need to show him respect.”

The impressive statistics on Katsuki Yuuri made little Yuri slump more into the cushioned chair. His arms crossed over his small chest once again, and he blew a breath up out of his mouth. A long strand of blonde hair danced with the huff in front of his green eyes. 

Victor hesitantly stood up, glancing at the others in the small office. 

“I- I’m going to go talk to him… yeah.”

Before Yakov or Yuri could respond, he turned and opened the door, quickly sliding out of it. Leaving the door open behind him, he looked around the arena. Everyone from the figure skating team was done for the day, so the hockey team was starting to take the ice. Loud, pump-up music was blaring through the room, and there were men everywhere, but Katsuki Yuuri was nowhere in sight. 

Victor sighed to himself, shaking his hands at his sides in an attempt to free himself from this nagging feeling. Why did he want to talk to Katsuki so bad? Something within him was calling him, pushing him to find the Asian man and properly introduce himself. 

He quickly skirted past the giant rink and the locker rooms. His fur boots made quite padding noises against the rugs lining the floor as he looked around for the dark haired man. Coming to the conclusion that Yuuri must not be inside the arena anymore, he pushed open the first set of glass doors that lead to the reception area.

And there he was. 

Yuuri was standing in front of the doors leaving the building, head hunched over his phone and eyes squinting at the screen. His thumb was scrolling over the screen fast, and although his black hair covered most of his expression, Victor could easily sense his stressed out and anxious state. 

“Hi…” Victor spoke quietly, stepping into the small area and letting the door swing shut behind him. 

Victor could clearly see Yuuri’s fingers tighten around his lilac phone case, fingers turning a ghostly white compared to the soft purple. It took Yuuri a moment to gather his breath enough to finally look up at Victor. His eyes were still the shade of deep burgundy that Victor found so alluring, but now they held a bit of unease in them. 

“Uh, hi.”

“I- I just wanted to come out here and talk to you properly. And make sure you get home okay.”

A breath escaped Yuuri’s chapped lips as his shoulders seemed to relax a bit. He blinked a few times at Victor, almost like he was making sure Victor was being genuine, before gracing him with a soft, closed mouth smile. He stood up a bit straighter now, slipping his phone into the pocket of his light coat. 

“Oh, alright, cool. Um, yeah I’m just trying to figure out which direction I am staying in. My condo is in the Sir Ivanov Estates.” Yuuri spoke more confidently now, a soft blush still high on his cheek bones. He shrugged his shoulders to himself, keeping his eyes locked on Victor’s. It just about took Victor’s breath away. 

“I live like a five minutes walk from there, actually. We could walk together, if you’d like?” Victor offered immediately. 

At first Yuuri’s expression remained blank, a stale silence filling the small, brightly lit space they were standing in. Victor started to worry on the inside, his mind swirling with outrageous thoughts. Did he sound too pushy with the question? Too desperate? Victor knows he can sometimes come on too strong, that he sometimes can be a little too much to handle… But then Yuuri’s rose colored lips turned up at the ends. 

Yuuri bit his lip like he was trying to contain a smile too big for the situation at hand. His cheeks flushed more and a small laugh escaped his nose. When he saw Victor’s confused and surprised expression, he immediately cleared his throat. 

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh…” He said, a warm smile still pushing up his mouth. He stood up a bit straighter and used his fingers to push a bit of black bangs off of his forehead. 

And oh goodness, Victor has done it again, hasn’t he? He came on too strong… too desperate… too pathetic. Victor took a small step back from Yuuri, an apology ready on his tongue. He was about to say sorry and excuse himself from this horrible situation that he put them both into when Yuuri spoke again. 

“I-... It’s just that I can’t really walk for that long anymore. You know, cause of the knee? But I really appreciate the offer…” Yuuri said through a warm smile, hand going down to pat the area directly above his right knee. 

It took a second for Victor to process his kind words, but when he did, he practically slumped with relief. A sigh escaped his lips before he could reign it back in. If Yuuri noticed the relieved look in Victor’s eyes, he didn’t mention anything. 

“Right, of course. Foolish of me to offer!” Victor spoke with a wide smile, running a pale hand through his bangs in a relaxed gesture. He couldn’t help but to snort at his own silliness, shaking his head slightly. 

“No, no! Nice- not foolish.” Yuuri corrected firmly. The two men stood facing each other for a moment, both with silly grins on their faces. It should have been uncomfortable, awkward even. But for some reason that Victor couldn’t comprehend… it wasn’t. In fact, Victor hasn’t felt this relaxed in the presence of a new person in years. 

Probably realizing that the two skaters were just staring at each other, Yuuri quickly came up with something to say. 

“For now, I have to either take a taxi or the city bus. I’m not really that confident in my understanding of Russian public transportation yet, so I was going to dial a taxi.” As if just remembering what he was doing before Victor caught up to him, Yuuri looked back at his phone, a slight frown on his face. His eyebrows pinched and his small nose scrunched up a bit.

The sight made Victor… feel things. 

“Well, you can always ask Marisha to call you a car.” Victor mentioned, pointing over Yuuri’s right shoulder. 

Yuuri quickly glanced that way. He was surprised to find a teenage girl sitting at the desk behind them. Her bright blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun, dyed black ends falling into her face. She was leaning back in her chair with her feet propped up on the desk, watching them closely. For someone with such a bold presence, Yuuri was surprised that he hadn’t even noticed her before. 

“Oh. Yeah, right. Well… I guess I’m going to do that then. I’ll uh, see you tomorrow for our session?” 

Victor couldn’t help but smile as Yuuri nervously stuttered out the statement, embarrassment clear in his voice. His cheeks were flushed, and his long eyelashes batted over the mahogany eyes a few times, before he finally looked at Victor. 

“Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow, Yuuri. You have a good night.” Victor said slowly, giving him another smile. And, to his immense surprise, it wasn’t his polite smile… it was his real smile! He hadn’t pulled that out for a stranger in, well, longer than he could remember. 

Something tingled in Victor’s chest, and he felt weirdly warm. He couldn’t figure out what was going on. Was he getting sick? 

“Yes. You too then.” Yuuri mumbled shyly, dropping his head and chest in a bow. When he leaned back up, Victor was already gone. Yuuri watched him retreat through the glass doors until he couldn’t see him anymore.

_ Did I really just have a normal conversation with THE Victor Nikiforov?  _

Yuuri was brought back to reality with a half amused and half bored voice. 

“So. You need me to call you a taxi?” Marisha asked with a smirk. 

Yuuri swallowed and nodded, staying quiet. 

God… He really needed some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please share this story to friends! Obviously don't like post it anywhere else or steal my writing, but link to people and mention it to friends! I'd really appreciate it :)


	5. A Long Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! 
> 
> So first off I want to make it clear that SOME TAGS HAVE BEEN ADDED. Please take a look at that to prepare yourself for what lies ahead in this chapter/story. I'd never want to trigger anyone, so please do your part to protect yourself as well :)
> 
> This chapter is a little bit more rough for all of the characters... but think big picture, people. Nobody is always comfortable or happy in their lives!!! Here's a peak at that. 
> 
> Enjoy :))))

Phichit sighed as he carried in another cardboard box, setting it down onto Yuuri’s twin sized bed. His room sat in the exact same condition as it had that morning they left for Amsterdam. Blinds drawn, bed perfectly made, and dresser drawers all open in a tizzy of last minute anxiety packing. 

Celestino had put Phichit in charge of packing up the majority of Yuuri’s stuff and getting it ready to be shipped out to St. Petersburg. Then, when everything was settled and ready, Celestino would take them to be shipped. 

It should be easy. Phichit knew his best friend. He could pick out his favorite jeans and the worn out sweaters Yuuri dressed in way too often. He could find Yuuri’s second pair of glasses way at the bottom of his desk drawer. He could decide which leggings Yuuri would need, and what shoes he could live without for a while. 

But all that didn’t make it any easier. 

Yuuri wasn’t meant to be in Russia. He was meant to be in Detroit. With Phichit and Celestino. Watching anime and eating burnt popcorn after practice. While helping Phichit give his hamsters nice haircuts before winter came in. 

So yeah… Phichit wasn’t doing very well with this change either. 

“God dammit Phich. Pull yourself together!”

He spoke sternly to himself, dropping to his knees next to Yuuri’s bed. He pulled out the comic books that he knew Yuuri stored under there, dropping them into the box with a muted ‘thump’. 

Reaching back under the bed to check if there were any more, Phichit felt something soft. With a furrowed brow, he fisted the fabric and pulled his arm out from under the bed. Slowly he unfolded the fabric to see what it was. 

_ A t-shirt? _

But not just  _ any _ t-shirt, Phichit realized with a smirk. In his hands was a hot pink t-shirt that Phichit hasn’t seen in years. 

“Oh my god… YES! He  _ definitely _ needs this. ”

Phichit cheered, a rich laugh escaping his chest. He quickly folded the t-shirt up neatly, making sure that no writing or pictures were visible. He couldn’t help but giggle even more as he tossed it in the box on top of the comic books. In fact, he had to take a quick pause to catch his breath before he was able to pack up anything else.

“You are sooo welcome, Yuu-chan!”

\--

It just wasn’t what Yuuri was expecting. 

Of course, he’d never had an injury to this degree before. But this still seemed a little over-the-top, no?

“Come on Yuuri. In, you go now.”

Oksana’s voice echoed off the water in the olympic sized pool, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears. 

When Yuuri showed up this morning at the rink, he was immediately ushered into the physical therapy room. It was huge and impeccably clean, padded tables set up throughout the room and all the rehab equipment you could imagine. There were swiss balls, med balls, stretching bands, dumbbells, foam rollers, stim machines, and so much more. Yuuri’s rehab center back in Detroit looked nothing like this. 

For the first hour, Oksana had Yuuri up on one of the padded tables. She worked him through a series of movements and stretches, focusing on his flexibility and range of motion. 

He expected that, was prepared for that. 

He was not prepared for the two hours each day he would spend in a pool workout. 

“What’s uhh… what’s the point of this again?” He asked in a quiet voice, clutching the towel around his shoulders. He looked up and squinted his eyes at Oksana, trying to make out her facial expression without the help of his glasses. 

Oksana sighed, rolling her eyes with a small smile on her face. She walked over to where Yuuri was standing in front of the pool’s steps. Laying a careful hand on his shoulder, she gently tugged the towel away.

“Your muscles  _ around  _ the ACL are hurt too. Obviously not as badly, but we need to strengthen those guys up in order to do the surgery in the first place. Pool workouts are one of the few modes of exercise that works all the muscles. You really need to be as strong as possible inorder to recover from this.”

Yeah, Yuuri already knew all that. But it still didn’t make him want to get in the pool.

“Fine.” He muttered under his breath, hoping Oksana wouldn’t hear him. He let go of his death grip on the towel and let Oksana take it away. Holding his breath, Yuuri took the first step, and slowly made his way into the pool. 

The water was even colder than he was expecting. His teeth clenched together and his nails started scratching violently at his palms, but he kept going. Ignoring the goose bumps covering his body and the way his legs shook, he made it all the way in, looking at his trainor when he was shoulder deep. 

“You said it would be warm.” He said stubbornly, fully aware that he was acting like a child at the moment. 

Oksana’s laugh warmed him up just a little bit. 

“Yuuri, the temperature is at 25 degrees! You can’t think it’s  _ that _ cold.” 

The cool water actually felt kinda good on his hands, at least. 

“I grew up in an onsen. My parents… they run the last hot spring resort in our town. The pools are always around 37 degrees, no matter the time of the year. This is like an ice bath.” He grumbled, moving deeper in the water so he had to stand on his toes to keep his head above the surface. 

Oksana watched her newest patient, surprised that he was sharing this information with her. Surprised, but please. She smiled, setting Yuuri’s towel on the nearest bench and walking to where Yuuri started to tread water. 

“Oh, yes! I remember you mentioning that. That must have been an amazing childhood then, huh? Let’s start with treading water. We’ll aim for 10 minutes, but stop if anything hurts too much.”

Yuuri moved even deeper, starting to skim his arms on the top of the water and kick his legs softly, treading the water around him. He contemplated the question, licking his dry lips before looking to where Oksana was sitting cross legged at the edge of the pool.

“It was good when we were small. When my sister and I grew up, we had to start helping out around the place. It’s not the norm to hire employees to work at an onsen. It is run by the family. Since I was 9, I’ve been in charge of the springs. Testing the temperatures of the pools, keeping the chemicals at balance, and taking care of the washrooms. Mari took over all the laundry and accomodation care. Mother is the cook and father does customer service and the paperwork. It’s… a lot for four people.”

Yuuri didn’t even notice that he was rambling nonsensically. He was too focused on staying above the water, moving his arms and legs in unison. It felt weird to be submerged in water again, for he doesn’t usually participate in the optional pool workouts in Detroit and he hasn’t been home for 2 years. 

“I suppose that was a lot of responsibility, wasn’t it? 8 minutes left.” Oksana prompted him to share more, keeping an eye on the clock. Her fiance Gabe always said that if she hadn’t been a physical therapist, she would have become a shrink. 

“Yeah, I guess. It was just something we did. No questions asked.” He responded with, doing his best to shrug while still treading water. He sank a bit, the water hitting his chin before he evened himself back out. 

Oksana nodded, keeping a close eye on her patient. His legs seemed to feel better when gravity wasn’t working against them, just like she suspected. He was doing well too, keeping his shoulders at water level for the most part. Hopefully this would have the effect that she hopped.

“A few more minutes, Yuuri. Then we will move on to basic kicks.” 

\--

After his two hour pool workout, which wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be, him and Oksana visited the little food station right in the arena itself. They ate mostly in silence, jet lag starting to get to Yuuri more than he’d like to admit. 

The small cafe in the arena was across the rink from Yakov’s office. It was a simple set up, a counter where the food was served, rickety tables set up and wiped clean, fluorescent lights above and vending machines in the corner. The cool air blew off the ice, and not even his hot tea could stop the cold from burrowing into his bones. 

To make matters worse, the entire ice rink that he so badly wanted to be on himself at the moment was in clear, unobstructed view. And guess who was on it?

Victor Nikiforov of course.

In a private practice with Yakov. 

A jumping practice.

It was like the universe was taunting him. 

Not only was the ice in front of him whispering to him and pulling him to grab his skates, from the bag he ( _ stupidly _ ) packed them in and left in Oksana’s office, and get on the damn ice himself. But his idol was also on this ice, skating like it was as easy as breathing, as automatic as the sun rising every morning. Like it was just something mundane, ordinary. Something that everyone could do.

But not Yuuri.

And to make his stomach roll and his world seem a little bit darker, Victor was practicing jump after jump, each one the more challenging and cleanly landed than the last. His idol, right in front of him, was jumping around the ice as if nothing in his life was as easy as that. 

Yuuri had to look away when Victor landed a clean triple axel- the jump that he potentially  _ ruined _ his career with. 

With a scowl, he took another sip of his tea, only to find it cold. 

“You alright?”

Yuuri almost had forgotten that Oksana was still sitting across from him, munching on a bag of chips. He quickly schooled his face back to neutral. 

“Fine. Let’s just… do whatever is next on the schedule. Please.” 

He lightly begged, standing up. His movements made the table shake, and he gave Oksana an apologetic look before stalking off to the trash. He deposited his cold tea inside, crossing his arms and diligently keeping his eyes away from the commotion on the ice. 

Oksana stood as well, deciding to let Yuuri sulk for a while. He probably still hasn’t  _ really  _ processed anything yet… and she didn’t want to push him over the edge that he would inevitably stumble over eventually. 

“Sure. We’re going to head back into the training room then, so I can get you back up on the table for a while.”

Together, they walked around the rink and towards the clinic in quiet, the cold of the rink weighing on them both.

\--

Three o’clock came way too quickly for Yuuri’s liking. 

His rehab was officially done with Oksana for the day. They’d finished their 12-2 session with lots of physical stretching. 

He would now play his silly role as a  _ ‘coach’ _ . 

As he slowly made his way down the hall of the clinic, heading towards the double glass doors that lead the way into the ice arena, his nails scratched harshly at his palms. He once again wondered if this was just a crazy joke coming from the Russian National Team. If they were all in on some prank with the intention of making Yuuri quit skating for good. He’s always heard the rumors, knew the history. The Russian National Team was not… not your friendly neighborhood skating team. 

God, what was Yuuri doing!? Why did he agree to this!?

By the time he found himself through the glass doors and in the main arena, his eyes had tears in them. Tears of pain from his nails abusing the delicate, tired skin of his palms. Tears of frustrations with himself and his stupid, weak body. And tears of pure exhaustion. 

He angrily rubbed at his eyes, cursing himself for being such a  _ goddamn  _ mess of a man. 

“Pull yourself together.” He spoke to himself in harsh Japanese. Sniffling a little bit, he pulled his hands away from his eyes, adjusting his glasses to sit correctly on his nose once more. 

Victor was already on the ice, skating lazy figure-eights with his arms by his sides. Yakov was nowhere to be seen, and with the way his office door was closed, Yuuri assumed he was tucked away in there for the night. Yuri Plisetsky was on the mats beside the rink, working on some off ice routines with a scowl on his young face. 

Victor noticed him as he approached the side of the ice. 

“Katsuki Yuuri, hi!”

Yuuri quickly dipped into a respectful bow of greeting. When he came back up, he let his bag drop to the ground with a thud. Not really knowing what to do next, he set his elbows on the ledge of the rink wall, leaning forward in what he hoped was a casual manner. 

The injured skater watched as Victor changed his path and made his way over to him.

“Um, hello. Are… are you ready to, uh- start I guess?”

\-- 

Victor had been looking forward to this all day. Literally. From the minute he woke up this morning, to a few moments ago when he stepped back onto the ice for the first time that afternoon, he’d been thinking about this. 

The day had gone so slowly. Conditioning was grooling, routine and jump practice felt mundane, and all of his rests and breaks in between seemed to drag on. His mind, his  _ soul _ , was excited. Excited for a change in his bland routine. 

When was the last time he had actually looked forward to something?

So he wasn’t really surprised when he finally caught sight of the Japanese skater making his way towards the rink and his heart jumped in his chest. That was normal right? When you were looking forward to something?

“Katsuki Yuuri, hi!” 

He spoke out, cringing a bit as his voice echoed around the large room. Victor shook it off, skating his way over to the edge of the ice to meet the other skater. He watched with a small smile on his lips as Yuuri placed his elbows on the ledge, trying to appear casual. 

That was, until he saw Katsuki Yuuri’s expression. 

No matter how hard the slightly younger man was trying to hide it, it was impossible for Victor to miss the puffiness of his eyes behind his glasses, the slight flush to his slightly chubby cheeks, and the wrinkle of distress on his forehead. His small hands were clenched in fists, shaking slightly, and his mouth was set in a strained line. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t alright.

Yuuri dropped into a deep bow, and when he came up, his voice sounded different than it had last night.

“Um, hello. Are… are you ready to, uh- start I guess?”

“Um, are you okay?” He asked, stopping in front of him with the barrier separating them. He tried to make his question as gentle as he could, but Victor has never been good with other people’s emotions. 

Yuuri looked stunned for a second, blinking a few times and bringing a hand up to touch underneath his eyes. When his hand was moving closer to his face, Victor caught sight of his beet red palms. What was Oksana having him do? Non-stop pull-ups all day? 

“I- I’m fine. Really. Just tired. It’s been a long day.” Yuuri said firmly.

Victor was slightly surprised at how sharp Yuuri’s voice came out when he was trying to defend himself. He never imagined Katsuki Yuuri being aggressive in any way. It didn’t bother him as much as it confused him.

Victor just took one more moment to take the other man in. His eyes looked nothing like they had during their conversation the night before. They were glassy, almost like a sheen of plastic covered them. They were… dull. Victor recognized the look well. 

Too well. 

Which made what he did next all the more important. 

“I am actually not feeling well. I was hoping that we could maybe start with our lessons tomorrow? I really don’t think we would get anything productive done tonight.”

The lie came easily off his tongue, sounding as genuine as any other sentence he had spoken that day. He even put a hand on his stomach, just to make the story a little bit more convincing. 

“Oh? You don’t?” 

“No. Haven’t been feeling well all day, really. Barely got through my jumping with Yakov this morning.”

Not exactly true, but Yuuri didn’t need to know that. Yuuri needed to go home and sleep.

A confused expression washed over Katsuki Yuuri’s face for a second before he nodded skeptically. 

“Alright then… I’m sorry to hear. What about Plisetsky?

Shit. Victor forgot that Yuuri had a lesson with him as well. He quickly looked across the rink and to the teenager, trying his best to come up with an excuse on the spot. He bit his lip, taping a finger to his chin before turning back to the other man.

“He uh… is just getting over lice? Yeah, needs one more day to have it completely cleaned up. He was going to start his training tomorrow anyway.”

Really? Lice? God, Yura is going to kill him!

“Oh! Uh, okay then. If you are sure, and if Yakov is going to be okay with it, we can just start tomorrow?” Katsuki spoke in a hesitant tone, but he could see his tense shoulders relaxing a bit more every second that passed by. Yuuri looked up at him, his dewy eyes asking for permission from Victor. 

And honestly, Victor thinks he would give the man anything at the moment. 

“Have Marisha call you a car and head back to your condo. I’m going to do the same. Like you said, it's been a long day.” His voice came out softer than he was expecting, a tone he hasn’t used on anyone in a  _ long _ time. It completely shook him, but seemed to do the opposite for Yuuri.

“Yeah. That sounds nice. I hope you feel better. Have a good night.” Yuuri said in a more stable voice than before, bowing deeply once more and heading towards the door without another look back. His limp was as obvious as the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders.

“AYE! Where is he going!?” Came Yura’s demanding voice as soon as the door shut behind Katsuki Yuuri. Victor quickly sent him an intense glare to shut him up.

\--

_ ‘Did… Did he just lie to me?’ _

Yuuri wondered for the hundredth time as he sat in the backseat of the cab that Marisha had called for him. He rested his forehead against the cold window next to him, watching as the river flew by, his breath fogging up the glass. 

Yuuri was  _ there _ , watching Victor’s jumping practice with Yakov, sitting on the side of the rink and ignoring his tea. Victor didn’t miss one single rotation or proper landing… No way was that him ‘ _ just making it through _ ’ the session. 

But  _ why _ would Victor lie to Yuuri? 

Maybe he just didn’t want to work with Yuuri? Maybe he didn’t think Yuuri would be able to help him and wanted to put off the dreaded sessions one more day? Maybe he  _ did  _ feel ill all of a sudden?

Yuuri let out a frustrated sigh, his mind even more of a jumble than it was before. 

_ ‘Come on Katsuki! Pull yourself together… please’ _

\--

“Hold on! You told him WHAT?!”

Victor grimpsed from where he squatted in front of the fireplace, poking at the burning coals. His apartment was colder than usual when him and Yura marched in. There must be another storm blowing in.

When the pair got to Victor’s home, they immediately set to work feeding Makka dinner and taking her on a quick walk. It was a routine that both of them knew well, for Yuri stayed over enough to go along with everything easily. 

The walk had been quiet, the two mostly keeping to themselves for a while, trying to unwind from the day. Victor was content with watching the evening rush hour push in, headlights flashing and car horns blaring in the busy city. Yuri mostly kept his head down, making sure he didn’t step in any stray piles of snow while wearing his new leopard print combat boots. 

After they got back, Yuri went to take a shower as Victor started their dinner. He made sausages and mash, for tonight was a night that their nutritionist recommended they eat some sort of dark meat. Victor wasn’t the best cook, mostly due to the fact that he was never very interested in cooking for one, but he could follow a recipe. 

Now Yuri sat on the couch behind Victor, wet hair dripping onto his shoulders and making his sleep shirt wet. His legs were crossed, plaid pajama pants on, and dinner plate sitting in his lap. His cheeks were pink in clear embarrassment, and his mouth hung open in shock. Victor couldn’t really blame him. 

“I uh… I told him you were just getting over lice. It was the first thing that I could come up with.” 

“YOU SON OF A B-”

“Hey!” Victor called out, standing up and quickly turning around. He pointed to Makkachin with a warning look on his face. He did not like people swearing in front of his girl. No matter how silly it was. 

Yuri rolled his eyes, but gave in. He took the fork in his hand and stabbed the sausage aggressively, glaring at Victor.

“Why would you tell him that?! What were you thinking?!”

Victor let out a sigh, running a hand through his silver bangs in a tired manner. He slowly made his way over to the chair, picking up his plate from the coffee table before taking a seat. He ran his fork through the mash on his plate, contemplating his response to the angry teenager on his couch. 

“It… it seemed believable.” He spoke slowly, bringing some steaming potatoes to his lips.

Yuri sputtered so much that Makka even looked up at him from where she was laying on her bed underneath the window.

“Vitya! I’ve never had lice in my entire life!”

“He doesn’t know that.” He mumbled, risking a glance at the angry skater again. What he saw was what he expected: Red cheeks, wide eyes, and a tight grasp on his fork. If Victor was in a better mood, he probably would have laughed.

Instead he just slumped backwards in the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. The mash was good- not his best, but pretty darn good. 

“Why did you even lie? I could have sworn you’d be excited for your first lesson with that slum, with the way you ran after him when he left the meeting last night.” Yuri asked his elder, shoving a large piece of meat into his mouth. He was still angry, but he could never win with Victor when he was in one of his moods.

“I was excited. But he wasn’t up for it. I could tell.”

Scraping of forks on plates and crackling from the fire were the only sounds that filled the apartment for the next few seconds. It was nice. Victor didn’t want to talk about this anymore. 

“What do you m-?”

“Can we end this conversation please. We will start with him tomorrow, okay?” Victor cut off the young boy, his voice more stern than it had been before. 

Yuri rolled his eyes, but gave in, nonetheless- letting the conversation drop between them. It’s not like it mattered at this point anyway. 

The two continued to eat their supper, eyes on the television now that Victor flipped on the home improvement channel. Makka snored from her bed, and the world whizzed beneath them. 

When they both finished their plates, Victor took them to the kitchen and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher while Yuri continued to watch the show in silence. As he closed the appliance and pushed the correct buttons to make it start, Victor couldn’t help but to think about how, even though Yuri had asked Victor that evening if he could stay over, Yuri already had a bag fully packed for the night brought with him that morning. 

It made him all the more stressed. 

Yuri’s homelife wasn’t good, and he tended to stay with Victor when it got really bad. It was just Yura and his mother in the small, dirty apartment that he knew they rented. Yuri’s father had been killed when he was 5, leaving Yuri’s mother to raise him on her own. 

She had good intentions, most of the time. But she had a horrible, sickening drinking problem that made her act… weird around her teenage son. Or, that’s how the teenager described it. Yuri never got into much detail when discussing the reasons why he was asking to stay with Victor, but Victor had an idea of what’s going on in that shitty apartment. 

His mind wandered out of control, his brain coming up with situation after situation that could have happened to the young boy, each one worse than the last. His chest was tight and he felt his palms sweat as he looked over at Yuri, curled up with a blanket on the sofa.

He made his way back into the living room, choosing to sit on the couch next to Yuri’s feet instead of taking his previous spot on the cushioned chair. Yuri tore his eyes away from the tv to give Victor a strange look. 

“What?” Yuri asked, sitting up a bit more, resting his back against the armrest of the sofa so he could face Victor.

“Well, I uh… I just wanted to check in that everything’s okay… at home?” Victor spoke awkwardly, swallowing in a way to clear his dry throat. He watched the young boy closely, making sure to seem as gentle as possible.

Victor would immediately see Yuri closing himself off, his shoulders becoming more stiff and fingers twitching on the blanket. Yuri quickly pulled his gaze away from Victor’s, glueing it to the tv instead. 

“It’s fine.”

Was the short answer that Yuri gave him. Victor really wanted to let him off the hook and pretend that Yuri’s answer had been enough, but he cared about the young boy too much for that. 

“Yuri…”

“What!? What do you want me to tell you? She gets like this okay? She gets all handsy with me when she drinks too much and I just… I just didn’t feel like fighting her tonight. I just wanted to be able to go to sleep without worrying.” He exploded, clutching his wet hair with shaky hands and shooting Victor a deadly look. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and Victor didn’t know what to say.

But Yuri continued to stare at him, daring him to respond to what he had just revealed. 

“Maybe… Maybe you could stay with me for a while? I don’t- I don’t want you there with uh- with your mother when she is acting like that.” Victor stumbled on his words, trying to say the right thing. He didn’t know if it was though, because Yuri just continued to stare at him with steely eyes, fists pulling at his own blonde locks. 

“Yuri, do you want to talk to Yakov about this?”

Immediately Yuri stood up, blanket dropping to the floor. He stepped over it and stalked quickly to the spare bedroom down the hall.

“I’m going to bed.”

Victor watched him walk away, feeling like the silence was  _ crushing _ him when he was left alone in the living room. When he heard the click of the door shutting behind Yura, he let his head fall into his hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. What a doozy, am I right? Repeat after me: ROUGH SPOT. 
> 
> But in all seriousness, I think it's very important to remember that there is never just one thing happening at a time. Everyone has their own lives, their own struggles, and their own experiences. I want to make that clear. It's unrealistic to just focus on one person's story when everyone (yes, EVERYONE) has their own. 
> 
> Promise that this rough patch passes like any other:)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Share any comments below :) They are so so so motivating for me! <3


	6. Power and Corruption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Hope everyone is doing well on this fine June day :) 
> 
> Sorry this took me a bit longer than usual to post! I got caught up reading some really good fics and had trouble wrapping this chapter up in a way that I approved of! But FINALLY I feel really good about it! 
> 
> Here is chapter six!!! :D Enjoy!

The next day was better, for Yuuri. 

After a hard cry, a video call with Phichit, and a long night’s sleep, Yuuri woke up feeling like a whole new person. He’s been as consistent with his anxiety pills as he’s been with his pain pills, and he even sent a text message to his parents that morning, letting them know he was okay and settling in well. 

His stretching and swim time had gone smoothly, his legs moving with little pain. Yuuri and Oksana had lunch in her office, where she brought two containers full of red, spicy chili. Yuuri tried to deny her, claiming that he couldn’t just take food from her with no payment, but Oksana had nothing of it. They sat together on her beige, springy couch and ate while talking about music. 

Overall, it had been a relatively good day for the Japanese skater. 

This time when Yuuri pushed open the glass doors leading from the clinic into the arena, he felt more at peace with his obligation to help Victor Nikiforov and Yuri Plitsetski with their step sequences. His eyes were void of tears and he felt more relaxed. 

The two Russian men were in their same positions as the previous day. Yuri was on the mats next to the rink, working on off-ice choreography. He twirled around, his arms flowing like the wind behind him.

Victor was on the ice again, getting warmed up by skating backwards, a hand on each hip. When Yuuri approached the side of the rink, Victor immediately spun, and headed over. 

“Yuuri, hi!” Victor spoke first, grabbing onto the edge of the wall as he approached the other man. This time, Yuuri gave him a slight smile in return.

“Hello. Do you think you feel well enough to start lessons today?” Yuuri asked in a soft voice after giving him a bow in respect. 

Yuuri dropped his bag - this time without skates in it - to the floor next to him. He had enough sense to leave his skates in his condo today, giving up on the fantasy of putting them on and gliding out onto the ice any time soon. 

“Absolutely. How would you like to start, coach?”

A blush immediately rushed to Yuuri’s cheeks at Victor calling him ‘coach’. It was a weird way for your idol to address you, after all. Yuuri hoped that Victor would just think that the flush was because of the chill coming off of the ice. 

Yuuri, bent down and grabbed a plain notebook from his bag. Half of the notebook was full, page after page written in sloppy Japanese- a clear sign of him planning out routines for himself. Yuuri always believed that the first step should always be to write your agenda down. 

“Well, you see… I don’t know about other skaters, but when planning and learning new routines, I always scratch it out on paper first. I think it helps, to really process and get a handle on what you need to do when the music starts.” Yuuri started, toying with the notebook in his slight shaking hands. 

Victor nodded, keeping his eyes on Yuuri.

“And- and well, I thought you could try it? If you want? I mean, writing down each element of your step sequence…” 

He trailed off, quickly bending down behind the wall to snatch the pen out of his bag as well. When he got up again, he finally chanced a look at Victor. Victor’s crystal blue eyes sparkled in interest, and he had raised a hand so his finger could brush over his lips. 

It wasn’t a negative response, so Yuuri offered Victor the notebook with an outstretched arm. He just hoped the Russian skater would take it.

“Well… I’ve never done that before. I’ve never even heard of that before. I’d love to try it, Yuuri!” Victor’s voice was excited as he reached out and grabbed the notebook. 

By the time Yuuri let out a breath of relief, Victor had the notebook open and was paging through to find a new sheet for himself. Victor’s eyes shone with interest, and his fingers brushed over some of Yuuri’s writing. 

“Wow… Your writing is beautiful, Yuuri. I wish I could read it.”

His heart thumped at the softness in Victor’s voice. His hands tingled… but not in the same way that made him want to scratch off his palms. Yuuri had to clear his throat before he was able to respond. 

“Uh, thank you. You can just turn to a new page. Feel free to write in Cyrillic or English. I can only read English, but I want you to be as comfortable as possible.” 

He tried to brush off the complement, bring the attention back onto the legendary skater. 

The way Victor held his notebook was like one would hold their religion’s guiding book. With gentle hands, carefully turning each page like it would be his death sentence if he were to so much as wrinkled a corner. His eyes stared intently, taking in the foreign writing like it held all the answers in the world. 

Yuuri let him look, not bothering to usher him on. At the moment, he desperately wished that he could hear what Victor was thinking.

“Are you sure you want me to write in this?” Victor asked, looking Yuuri straight in the eyes. It almost took Yuuri’s breath away.

“Of course! Please, go ahead… I mean- if you are comfortable with it.” Was it a weird thing for him to suggest? Was Victor uncomfortable with the idea that Yuuri would be carrying around the exact steps to both his short program and free skate step sequences?

The worry went away when Victor finally set the notebook on the edge of the rink wall, turned to the next available page, clicked the red pen so the ink could run, and began writing. 

\--

The feeling Victor got in his chest when he looked at the straight lines and perfectly even spacing of Katsuki Yuuri’s writing in the worn down notebook was unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He was reluctant to turn to a new page, wanting to stare at the various colors of ink all night, if he was allowed. 

And… and Katsuki Yuuri was letting him leave his own mark on it. On something that obviously meant so much to him. On something that he obviously worked  _ so _ hard on. 

Why did he care so much? Victor couldn’t read a single word in the whole book! So why did this mean so much to him?

“Are you sure you want me to write in this?” He had to ask- had to make sure.

Katsuki’s eyes were wide and curious when Victor met him. The warmth that Victor saw during their conversation in the front foyer of the arena was back. The brown of his eyes made their interaction soft and calm. They were… everything that Victor unknowingly needed in his loud life.

“Of course! Please, go ahead… I mean- if you are comfortable with it.”

Victor could hear the hesitation in Yuuri’s voice. Why would he feel nervous about this?  _ Of course  _ Victor was comfortable with his suggestion. His heart thudded with anticipation at the thought of him leaving his mark on something of Katsuki’s - but for a whole different reason than the opposite man thought. 

The top of the red pen Yuuri handed him was clicked before Victor even knew it, and in mere seconds, he was bent over with the journal resting on the ledge of the rink wall. Because he was still in his skates on the ice rink, the angle was awkward, and definitely not good for his back - but that was the last thing on his mind at the moment. 

His hand moved faster than his brain. Word after word somehow made their way onto the lined page, English words scratched messily in red ink. His spelling was probably awful and clumsy, but he did his best. He hasn’t actually written anything in English in years. He hoped Yuuri wouldn’t mind.

Before he knew it, the entire step sequence of his short program was scribbled in front of him. 

“It looks like a lot, on paper.” Victor observed out loud, scrutinizing his handwriting.

“It always does. See, when you’re actually skating the sequence, it’s so fast and fluent that you don’t realize how much you are really doing. But, it's intricate - massively so. It’s something so delicate, so… specific. And you don’t even realize it.” 

The passion in the other man’s voice made Victor’s head snap up. It was very clear that step sequences were not only something Katsuki was  _ very _ good at… but something he really enjoyed creating and performing. 

When was the last time Victor felt that way about… anything?

A blush washed across Yuuri’s face, and soon his wonderful, warm, mahogany eyes were on the floor. 

“Sorry I-... I ramble sometimes. So this is your short program’s step sequence, I assume?” Yuuri ushered on the conversation, eyes glancing at the notebook as he took in the individual steps. 

Victor’s mouth opened, but then dropped closed again. His first instinct had been to correct Yuuri, let him know that he had nothing to be sorry for. He wanted to tell the other man that he enjoyed the sound of his soft voice almost as much as he enjoyed the feel of his warm eyes. He wanted to beg Yuuri to keep talking about step sequences, and wanted to hear the all consuming passion beneath the words. 

Instead, he stayed quiet, looking back down at his writing alongside the man who made him feel like he never has felt before. 

“Yes. My short program. Do you want me to write down my Free Skate sequence as well?”

The way Yuuri bit his bottom lip between his teeth in thought made goosebumps run over Victor’s skin. 

“Hmmm… No, no. This is fine, for now. We can focus on the short program first, and then move on.”

His eyes stayed glued to the paper, and Victor watched him the whole time. 

Katsuki Yuuri… was a bit of a wonder. 

“I uh-... Would you-.. Maybe…” 

It was endearing how Yuuri stumbled over his words. Cute in an imperfect way that the world could never see Victor be. The older skater tried to soak it up, keeping the innocent, soft smile on his lips. 

“What’s that?” He questioned, not wanting to make the other man more nervous.

Victor didn’t think that Yuuri’s cheeks could be flushed any more. He was wrong.

Yuuri took a deep breath, shifting his weight around for a second before leaning fully on the edge of the rink wall, taking as much weight off of his right leg as possible. He blinked rapidly, pushing his slipping glasses back up the bridge of his nose. It took a few more seconds before Katsuki Yuuri was able to look Victor in the eye.

“Would you be upset if today was more of a conversation day? I’d like to hear more about your theme of the season. I want to understand the message you are trying to convey with your skating. I know your music, but I think that I need to know your purpose before I can help you.” Yuuri spoke quickly, wanting to push it all out before he lost his nerve.

“You know my music?” The question came out before Victor could even think.

Yuuri’s eyes popped open wider than before. Surprise shown clearly in his face. 

“Well I uh-...”

_ Shit.  _

“Sorry. I - Sorry. I don’t know why I asked. Anyways, I wouldn’t mind that at all. I’d really try anything at this point. Do you want to meet in the skaters lounge? Or in the bleachers? I think we should sit for this. So, you know, I can take off my skates.”

\--

“Do you want anything to drink?” 

Yuuri jumped slightly in his chair in surprise. Victor took the seat across from him at the table in the skaters lounge. Fifteen minutes had passed since Victor agreed to spending their session today talking. While Yuuri had headed for the restroom to calm himself down, Victor went into the locker rooms to get out of his skates. He now wore a pair of black fur boots. 

Yuuri wondered why he thought they were so endearing. They were just boots!

“Oh, uh, no! I’m alright, thanks.”

Victor nodded, a closed mouth smile on his lips as he leaned back in the chair. His eyes stayed glued to Yuuri, which made a shiver try to snake it’s way up his back. Yuuri tried his best to suppress it, flipping through the notebook to Victor’s page.

“So, we have about 25 minutes to discuss, and then I have to work with Yuri Plitsetsky for his session. I’d like to first start out with what your theme is for the season. What have you been skating through so far this year?”

Giving Victor a second to contemplate the question, Yuuri clicked open the pen. Underneath the  _ beautiful _ writing that Victor did, Yuuri scratched his own entry.

_ Year’s Theme:  _

Something washed over the room then. Both men just stared at the page, looking at the way their writing oddly complemented each other’s. It seemed they both noticed, because as Yuuri’s cheeks turned more pink, Victor’s eyes shone.

Their writing… it looked  _ right _ . Together. 

The pen, dangling between Yuuri’s fingers, dropped. It bounced a few times on the hard table top, before falling to the floor. The noise shocked Yuuri out of his thoughtful daze, making him gasp lightly. 

“Oh shoot.”

“I’ve got it!”

Victor shouted and ducked down before Yuuri could even move. 

As Victor was under the table, Yuuri took a moment to desperately will his wildly spreading blush away. But as he took another look at the page in front of him, all his efforts were for a lost cause. 

_ Woah _

Victor came up from underneath the table a moment later, red pen held in his long, pail fingers. He silently offered the pen back to Yuuri, but his eyes stayed on the notebook in front of them.

“Sorry about that.” Yuuri spoke shyly as he took the pen from Victor, being very careful to not let their skin touch. 

Victor’s eyes sparkled brightly when he met Yuuri’s again.

“It’s no problem at all. You were asking about my theme?”

Yuuri nodded, readying the pen once again between his fingers, this time with a tighter grip. 

“I actually have two themes for this season. Power and Corruption. My short program is based on the feeling of power and then my free skate is how that power can lead to corruption.”

Yuuri nodded along with the words, writing them down. He knew this.  _ Of course _ he knew this. He’s known every single theme that Victor has ever skated to. Not that he’d  _ ever  _ admit that to the man across from him. 

“Why?”

It slipped through Yuuri’s lips before he could stop himself. Yeah, it was something that Yuuri always wondered about… but he never planned on actually asking. A season’s theme- it could be a really personal thing. They always were for Yuuri. 

He watched as Victor’s eyes widened and his brows furrowed. A slight frown played on those fine, pastel lips. The confusion was clear on his face. 

“Why?” Victor repeated the question, as if he did not understand what Yuuri had asked. 

Yuuri’s palms tingled with panic, and his nails immediately dug in. He quickly moved them under the table when he saw Victor’s eyes follow his movements. His fingers scratched back and forth on the sensitive skin without Yuuri even noticing.

“Sorry- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It just… sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain and I didn’t mean to offend you at all. You don’t have to tell me, really-”

“Woah woah woah- Yurri. It’s okay,  _ gunn _ . I just- I’ve never been asked  _ why _ before.” Victor interrupted Yuuri’s anxious babbling. Victor’s eyes were soft as he tried to calm Yuuri down, but Yuuri still found it hard to swallow. His gaze stayed down.

When Victor stayed quiet for a while, Yuuri risked a glance up at the man. 

And he didn’t like what he found. 

The look on Victor’s face struck a chord in Yuuri’s heart, making him feel sad. His face was scrunched up in an uncomfortable position. While his mouth remained in a straight, neutral line, his eyes were searching. But not searching for something tangible, clearly, but like they were searching for reasons in his own being. Reasons for why he skated the way he did. 

_ Has really no one ever asked Victor such a simple question? _ Yuuri wondered, giving the moment to Victor, to let him think and ponder all he needed. He could wait. He would wait.

Victor’s mouth opened as if he was going to give Yuuri the answer that he was waiting for. But then the Russian closed his mouth again, and shook his head to himself, frustration clear in the movement. 

And there was a desperate look in Victor’s eyes. A look that begged for help, begged for someone to tell him what to think and what to feel. What to say… What to be.

It made Yuuri’s heart ache that much more. 

Right as he was about to pull Victor from his thoughts, excuse him from the question with the realization that it didn’t really matter anyways, Victor’s quiet, cold voice pierced the silence of the room.

“I- I don’t know. I guess I don’t really have a reason.”

\--

They were on their way home. 

Victor had recently started taking his own car to and from the ice rink instead of walking. With the winter firmly settling into Russian and the sun tucking itself away earlier and earlier as the days passed, Victor thought it was better. 

Every time Victor walked into the atrium of the skating rink in the morning, his Tesla keys hanging from his fingers, Marisha would shoot him a sly look. The look read that she knew something that he didn’t. Something that he  _ should  _ know. It made him blush every single time, causing him to rush past her and through the doors. 

Now Victor sat in rush hour traffic, both hands tightly clutching the steering wheel in front of him. Yuri sat in the passenger seat, duffle bag in his lap and his eyes glued to whatever he was doing on his phone. Music filtered quietly throughout the car, but Victor could barely hear it. 

He was still thinking about what Yuuri had asked him that evening. 

_ ‘My themes are power and corruption…’ _

_ ‘Why?’ _

It bothered Victor. Not because Yuuri had asked, but because he couldn’t give him an answer. 

Why was he skating to those themes? Why had he skated to the theme of sincerity last season? And why had he skated to the theme of tradition the year before? Rebirth, hypocrisy, wealth, oppression, silence… Why had he skated to any of those themes?

Why didn’t he know this?!

It ate at him, dug into his mind like a migraine. He  _ hated _ it. 

“Why are you so quiet?”

Victor’s head snapped over to the voice, taking in Yuri’s hesitant expression. Had he really been so distracted that the teenager noticed?

“Sorry, Yura. I just… I have a lot on my mind.”

“Something happen during your session with Katsuki?” Yuri asked in an uninterested tone, but the fact that he was even asking told Victor otherwise. 

Victor sighed as he made a turn. 

“No. Not really. He was great. I actually didn’t do much skating at all. We mostly talked about my skating and step sequences. I think he said I’ll be able to skate more tomorrow.”

The road they drove down was thankfully empty compared to the main street, and Victor accelerated a bit.

“Yeah, Katsuki tried to get me to write down all the steps in my sequences, but I told him that was stupid. I ended up just skating my short program step sequence a few times for him. He even recorded one so he could look closer at it tonight. I doubt he’ll be useful at all. I bet Yakov just wanted to get on our nerves.” Yuri ranted, his eyes not leaving the screen on his phone. Victor couldn’t help but to roll his eyes at the teenagers perspective. Poor Yuuri.

Finally Victor pulled into the underground parking lot where he kept his car. The garage door squeaked open and Victor pulled into his designated parking spot. When he parked the car, Yuri quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and hoped out, not waiting for Victor before he headed to the elevator.

Victor followed with a sigh, locking his car before sticking his key in the elevator key slot, calling it down to the garage. Once they were inside, Victor used his key again to tell the elevator where he wanted it to go.

“Yura, what’s your theme for this season again?”

He asked, hopping Yuri didn’t get suspicious of why he was asking. He actually felt a little bad for having to ask in the first place. He should know this about his young friend.

Yuri frowned but actually looked up from his phone to answer.

“Patience. Ironic, isn’t it? Considering Yakov says that I’m the least patient person in all of Russia.”

The elevator started going up, and Viktor nodded, taking in the information. When the elevator got to the top floor, a soft  _ ‘bing’ _ rang through the small space. The doors slid open, and they both headed into the apartment.

“Why did you choose patience then? If you don’t feel connected with it?”

Yuri sighed, throwing down his skating bag by the shoe mat. He quickly unzipped his thick parka.

“I don’t know. Yakov picked it out for me. Why are you asking me all these questions?”

Victor had already knelt down to envelope Makka in a big hug. She licked at his cold cheeks, wagging her tail in an excited manner. Keeping his eyes on his poodle, Victor nodded silently. He ran his hands through the curls on the top of Makka’s head.

“No reason. What would you like for dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Finally we are getting some face-to-face time with out favorite duo :)
> 
> As for the word 'gunn' that Victor calls Yuuri when he is freaking about a bit- 'gunn' loosely translates from Russian to English as 'hun'. So just a quick cute name that slipped :) 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I am starving for some feedback hahaha
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter!


	7. Pavane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends
> 
> I am so sorry this took me so long to post... 
> 
> Honestly, the world is weighing pretty heavily on me right now. I'm sure it is on a lot of us. And I want this story to be a light that may be absent in some of your lives... And in order to do that, I had to take the time to get it just right.
> 
> And with that being said... WAHH LAHH <3

“Victor. Just give me the coffee.”

Yuri seethed, glaring at Victor with all the hate he could muster up this early in the day. 

He’s been up since 2:30 that morning, a nightmare causing him to wake up with tears streaming down his cheeks. He immediately wiped them away, cursing himself even though it was pitch black and no one was there to see him cry.

He hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after that. His mind wouldn’t stop going and going. It was frustrating and stupid and Yuri just wanted it to stop. _Needed_ it to stop.

Yuri knew he should go back home. His mom, Yulia, couldn’t be trusted on her own. She wouldn’t pay the rent that was due soon. She wouldn’t feed his beloved cat Potya properly. And she definitely wouldn't check in on Serge, their elderly neighbor who Yuri secretly tried to take care of. 

Worse, Yulia would get suspicious. She always noticed when Yuri hadn’t been home in a few days. She always asked where he was, demanding answers and getting even more upset if she could tell Yuri was lying and trying to avoid her. She was a mess of a human being- and Yuri didn’t know what would happen if he actually disappeared for a while. 

Maybe if he went home tonight- Thursday- and dealt with his mother this evening, he could stay at Victor’s all weekend. That should hopefully reassure her enough that he wasn’t abandoning her… yet. 

He should go home, but he really didn’t want to. 

Yulia’s drinking always got worse in the winter. She claimed that since they couldn’t afford heat, she had to use alcohol to warm herself up. Lousy excuse really - Yuri doesn’t remember the last time he found her completely sober. But he really needed to pay those bills, grab some new clothes, and rescue Potya from the neglect. 

Maybe he could ask Victor to go with him? With another person there, Yulia might hesitate to make advances on her 16 year old son a little bit more. Then Yuri could grab his things quickly and get out of there without Yulia touching him. 

“NO!”

Yuri scolded himself quietly, running a hand through his shoulder length blonde hair. There was no way that he could bring Victor into that environment. Victor would absolutely freak out. He might call the Child Protective Services- or even worse: tell Yakov. 

That wasn’t an option. He would have to do this alone. 

Three hours later, Yuri and Victor were standing in the kitchen. Victor was buzzing around, checking what he had in the fridge so he could make dinner later that night. The coffee machine dripped dark, fresh liquid into the pot below, and all Yuri could think about was getting some in his mouth. 

“No can do, Yura. Yakov said that you shouldn’t drink coffee until you are done growing. I cannot be the one to stunt your growth!” Victor said as he dumped a scoop of kibble into Makachin’s dish. The poodle trotted over quickly, digging into her breakfast. 

“Who cares what Yakov says!? I want the coffee and I want it NOW!”

Yuri watched as his loud, angry voice made Victor jump in surprise. Even Makka looked up from her food dish, shocked at the loud disturbance to her usually peaceful breakfast. A frown washed over the taller man’s pale face, and Yuri immediately regretted yelling at him. Not that he would ever admit that though. He held firm to his words, crossing his arms over his chest in a stubborn manner.

Victor glanced at the clock on the wall, and then over to the coffee machine. 

“I can’t stop you from getting some, Yuri. But I don’t think that you should be drinking that so young.” 

Victor’s stupid voice and his stupid words and his stupid face were too much for Yuri after the long night he had. He was irrational, felt irrational, and knew he shouldn’t take it all out on Victor.

“Fine. I’ll be in the car.”

With those final words, Yuri turned his back to the place that felt more like home than his actual home did. He marched to the shoe mat, quickly slipping on his combat boots and thick parka. His bag was ready for him in front of the elevator, so he jabbed the button and waited for it to come up.

\--

“Your rehab is going really well so far, Yuuri. Better than we were expecting, actually!”

Yuuri nodded to his doctor, a bit of sweat dripping down his forehead as he continued to do his one-legged bridges with his back on the giant Swiss ball. His good knee was raised in the air, and his injured leg worked hard to move his trunk up and down for a set of 12.

He dropped to the floor a second later when he finished his set. The large Swiss ball rolled away, and he laid flat on his back, trying to catch his breath and relax his muscles. His hurt knee tingled slightly. 

“Good. I am glad.” Yuri huffed out, letting his head roll to the side so he could look at Oksana. He smiled a little when she laughed at his tired reaction.

“Me too. That means we can schedule your surgery sooner. Of course, not too soon. We cannot put more stress on your knee than we absolutely need to.”

Yuuri nodded silently, trying to repress a shiver that tried to snake it’s way though his body. He still hasn’t come to terms with the idea of such an intrusive surgery yet. He doubts he ever really will… just the idea scared the daylights out of him. 

He sat up slowly, wiping a hand across his chin. He had just finished his last exercise for the day. Taking a deep breath, he looked across the room and to the clock on the wall. In about 20 minutes he had to meet Victor in the arena so they could work on his step sequence together. 

Thankfully, Victor had been a lot more receptive to Yuuri’s training suggestions on ways to improve his step sequences than Yuri Plitsetski had been. Yuuri didn’t really mind though. Teenagers will be teenagers, right?

“Ugh.” Yuuri grunted as he pushed himself up to stand, his right leg feeling incredibly sore at the moment. He turned to Oksana, pushing some sweaty hair out of his face. 

“Good to go for the night, then?”

Oksana watched Yuuri closely. She didn’t like the way he was avoiding to put any weight on his right leg. 

“Yeah, sure. But hold on a second before you leave. I can tell that your leg is giving you a bit of trouble, no?” She asked, turning around and walking over to a cupboard. 

“It’s fine, really.” Yuuri muttered, trying to ignore the tired throbbing of his knee. 

Oksana opened the cupboard door and what she pulled out had Yuuri’s mouth falling open. _No way_.

She returned back to her patient, ignoring the displeased look on his flushed face. In her hands was a single crutch. 

“I want you to stay off the leg for the rest of the night, alright? Give it a bit of a rest before we start again tomorrow.”

Yuuri just stared at the metal contraption that Oksana held out to him. He heard her words clearly, and rationally he knew that the crutch could only help him in the long run… But he would look so stupid! And in front of the Russian National team? He didn’t think he could live through that one.

“Oksana…” Yuuri muttered, not sure how to get his thoughts across to his doctor. They made him sound immature and a bit too self involved, but they were genuine. Yuuri had never been good with what other people thought of him. 

And while Oksana could see the distress in her patients eyes, she knew that it was the right thing for him - his injury and his self perception. 

“Yuuri, please don’t take this as me being impatient with you. I’d never want to put you in a position where you feel uncomfortable… but I cannot bend on this one. If you want to have any rehab tomorrow at all, you need to use the crutch for the rest of the day. Or else we’ll simply make tomorrow an off day. It’s your choice.”

Yuuri swallowed thickly at the options Oksana presented him with. And the thought of him sitting in his quiet condo alone for the entire day made the decision almost too easy. 

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Oksana tried to hide her smile as he avoided eye contact, took the single crutch from her hands, and hobbled towards the locker rooms. 

\--

Yuuri was still blushing even as Victor skated a few laps around the giant ice rink to warm up his legs. 

As he had suspected, Victor noticed his crutch right away. And made a big deal about it, of course. While Yuri Plitsetski had just huffed out a laugh at Yuuri as he navigated himself around the boards to meet Victor, trying his absolute best to look casual on the crutch, Victor had gasped immediately when his graceful blue eyes took in the recovery tool that he was using. 

“ _Oh my, Yuuri_! Are you okay?! Did you get hurt again during rehab today? Did Oksana push you too hard? You know, I can go talk with her if you need. Sometimes her expectations are unrealistic for her patients and…”

Yuuri was sure it had to be his fire burning blush that made Victor trail off. 

And with his cheeks still painted a flashy scarlet, Yuuri tried to play it off. He told Victor that he was absolutely fine, hoping - no _praying_ to the Gods above that Victor would believe him and they could get on with their lesson. 

He didn’t believe him. 

Yuuri had to spend 10 minutes talking Victor down, repeatedly insisting that _no, I don’t want to head home early_ and _I absolutely do not need to sit on a chair on the ice, thank you_. 

In the end, they compromised. Victor would get on with his lesson, but only if Yuuri promised to take a seat in the stands if he felt any bit uncomfortable. 

Yuuri almost snickered at that agreement. Not feeling uncomfortable? While picking apart his idol’s step sequences, commenting on his mistakes, in Russia, and having his knee throb slightly under his clean joggers? Impossible… but he wasn’t about to make that known to the other, surprisingly stubborn man.

Instead he just stayed quiet, letting Victor take his few laps while getting out the choreo notebook, flipping it open and paging through to find Victor’s handwritten routine. 

Victor’s handwriting still brought a soothing feeling to Yuuri’s shattered chest. The smooth lines, all curves and no sharp angles, made him smile lightly. He ran his finger over the script like he could _feel_ the intention behind it. 

He couldn’t, but something still tingled in his fingertips and made him feel a little bit lighter. 

“Alright Yuuri. I think I’m all good to start my short. Are you sure you are up to this today?”

Yuuri quickly snapped his head up from the page in front of him, tearing his hand away from the gentle caress he was giving the words. With a quick flush, he cleared his throat.

“Yes, I am sure. Go ahead and get into starting position. I will start the music. You don’t have to skate the full routine for me- just mark the jumps and spins if you want. But I do want to see the full step sequence.”

Victor nodded quietly, moving to the center of the rink. With a deep break, he closed his eyes, tilting his face up towards the ceiling. He placed both of his pail, skinny hands on his opposite elbows and bent his long legs slightly, frozen in that spot. 

Even Victor Nikiforov’s starting position took Yuuri’s breath away. It was just so _beautiful_.

Yuuri almost forgot to start the music. Honestly, he could stare at his idol like this all day. But the small remote in his hand reminded him of what he was supposed to do. Just like Victor had shown him earlier, he quickly pressed the button with the sideways triangle. 

A deep note on the piano brought Victor’s performance to life. As Pavane by Josef Babula washed over the silent arena, the tension started to build. 

Victor unfolded, inch by inch, with the tone of the piano and violin coming together in harmony. Long fingers swept over his collarbone as his head dropped, striking blue eyes opening to stun the audience - or in the case- just Yuuri. 

It was like the air was being sucked out of the room.

Skating backwards, Victor dove into his first spin, legs wide and hands digging into his perfect, shiny silver hair. The arch of his back and the point of his toe was something that Yuuri was _sure_ he would be seeing later tonight in his dreams. 

A Spread Eagle, cross-overs, twizzles…

It was obvious that Victor was going to use his step sequence as a way to divide his program. That way, it was impossible for the judges to claim that any of his jumps were in his first half of his skate - thus getting him a higher score. 

As he started his step sequence, as the music was a high pitched shrill that made goosebumps climb Yuuri’s arms, Yuuri held his breath. 

Yuuri had never watched Victor’s skating with anything but an admiring eye before. He never _dared_ to. 

But, now, as he watched Victor’s quick movements on the ice with a critical eye… He _did_ notice some things. 

A half-hearted step, a stuttering knee on a simple twizzle, an ankle twisted in the wrong direction, a toe with a lazy point, an arm a bit too high over his shoulder… 

Victor did not lack passion- _he seemed to lack technical skill_. 

Yuuri almost scolded himself just for thinking that.

When Victor finished his step sequence, a bit more than halfway through his music choice, he marked a jump. When he landed the skip, he turned back around, and started to skate over to where Yuuri was leaning against the ice barrier. 

Yuuri’s nails scratched at his palms once again as he watched those _plaguing_ blue eyes get closer and closer to where he stood.

His job here was to make Victor’s step sequences the absolute best that they could be. Yuuri knew that… knew that he should tell Victor all that he saw… tell Victor all the things he needed to improve on in order to score a 4. 

But… but how? How could he?

In the long run, he himself was no expert. And this was his _idol_. 

He honestly did not even notice that Victor was in front of him until the _soul-sucking_ music came to a pause. When Yuuri’s eyes found the other man, he noticed that Victor had grabbed the small remote from the ledge, clicking the ‘stop’ button himself. 

The silence of the arena around them was too loud. 

“So, Katsuki Yuuri, what did you think?”

And he had to answer him, didn’t he? He had to give his idol - the man who inspired him since he was a small boy in too-big skates and a chunky ‘Y’ sweater - his honest opinion. Could he do it? When he throat was so dry and his eyes suddenly felt a bit glassy?

“I-...” he started in a whisper. 

Victor’s icy eyes were so intense that Yuuri avoided them by looking down at the notebook in between them. 

“I’d like to think about it tonight. Ponder it, unpack it, start to familiarize myself with it. Will that work for you? I promise that I will come with more comments tomorrow. I am sorry, I just need time to gather my thoughts so they can make sense.”

The truth felt _good_ when it settled between them. Yuuri’s fingers eased a little bit from the murderous position on his palms. 

It took a second, but eventually an understanding smile washed over Victor’s face. The look was genuine, warm almost, and it was all Yuuri needed to bring his frantic heart back to normal. 

“Of course, _zvezda_. Take your time.”

\--

“Goodnight, Yakov. I’ll see you in the morning. Say hello to Lilia for me.”

Victor bid his coach as he waved at him through the doorway. His arms felt heavy from his time in the weight room today, and he really debated taking a hot bath when he got home. A good soak of his muscles always made him feel so much better.

After he got a grumble in response from Yakov, he headed back towards the rink, watching the last few minutes of Yuri’s training session with Katsuki Yuuri. 

From the edge of the rink, Yuuri was calling out to the younger skater in a mildly frustrated tone. 

“Plitsetski, I told you to go at a slow motion pace. Please- let's try this _one_ more time.”

Victor was equal parts surprised and impressed with how the Japanese man handled the hard-headed, stubborn teenager. If it was Victor himself out there trying to coach Yura, they’d be at eachothers throats, no doubt. 

With a hand tucking some of his damp, silver hair behind his ear, Victor made his way to sit in the spectator stands behind where Yuuri was leaning heavily against the wall. His single crutch was next to him, also leaning against the divider, and his elbows were clearly holding up most of his weight while resting on the top of the barrier.

“I _was_ going at a slow-motion pace, asshole! Sorry my legs are just too fast for your dumb eyes to follow!” The teenager shot back with a snarl, curling around and returning to his starting position. 

Victor frowned at the words, ready to jump in and scold Yura for being so disrespectful, but Yuuri spoke before he got the chance.

“Yes, Yuri Plitsetski. You are right. That is the problem.”

Yuuri spoke in a dry voice that almost made Victor snicker aloud. A humored smile filled his face, and he silently cheered Yuuri on. Seems as if the other man could handle the _Russian Fairy_ after all.

And before Yuuri even gave the young skater a chance to spew the venom that was no doubt rearing, he flicked off the fluttering music overhead. 

“Let’s just wrap it up for the night. We will continue to work tomorrow. Nice job today, Plitsetski-san.”

Yuuri dropped into a deep bow of respect then, shutting the choreo notebook and opening the swinging door for Yura to get off the ice. Yura huffed out an annoyed grumble and made his way to the rink exit. Once he got there he avoided eye contact and quickly snapped on his black skate guards, stomping towards the locker room without so much as another word. 

Once the small blond disappeared through the labeled door, Victor let out a breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding.

“Wow!”

The Russian watched as the man jumped in front of him, obviously startled from his own thinking. Yuuri quickly turned around, leaning back against the ledge to catch his balance. The usual blush on his cheeks was _still_ there. 

Honestly, Victor was starting to enjoy seeing the crimson tint on those puffy cheeks. 

“Oh my. I didn’t know you were there.”

Yuuri’s hand lifted from the place where it had been clutching at his chest in surprise, and he quickly pushed his slipping glasses back up the bridge of his nose. 

“You really know how to handle Yura, don’t you? I am very impressed, Yuuri! His rude comments and aggressive demeanor chase just about everyone away… But not you. Huh.”

Victor realised he was babbling along again, and stood up from his place on the cold bleachers. After throwing his bag up onto his shoulder, he carefully stepped down the few rows of seats. His cozy fur boots made a dull thudding sound as he took each step, but soon he was standing in front of the other man. 

“Oh. Well, you know… He’s just a kid.” Was what Yuuri came back with, shrugging his shoulders innocently - like he wasn’t just repeatedly insulted by a 16 year old for the last hour. 

As Yuuri pushed himself off the boards to stand up, Victor quickly used his unusually long arms to snatch up the crutch before the other man could. When Yurri found his feet on steady ground, Victor offered him the equipment. 

“I’m glad you realise that. The skating world can be a cold, unforgiving place for kid skaters like Yuri- although, I’m sure you already know that.”

Victor helped position the crutch under Yuuri’s right arm, not letting go of it until Yuuri’s hand was wrapped around the handle and he could finally release most of his weight onto the metal tool. When Yuuri let out a relieved sigh, Victor doubted that he even realised his reaction.

“Yeah… I know. I’m not going to make it any harder on him than it already is.” 

Victor nodded in understanding, a small smile playing on his lips. There wasn’t much compassion or heart in the skating world - but it was clear to Victor that Yuuri lacked none of those.

“Admit it. He _can_ be quite the jerk though…” 

Yuuri looked like he was struggling to contain a laugh when Victor looked next to him. He lost, and a wonderful, soft noise filled the area around them. The sound made Victor’s heart flutter, and just like when he looked into those mahogany eyes of the other man - he somehow felt _warmer_.

“Yeah, he really can be.”

Something flashed in the corner of Victor’s eye then, and when he looked away from the _shining_ man beside him, he saw Yuri rushing towards the exit doors with his jacket half on and his bag hanging from one elbow. 

Wasn’t Yuri coming home with him again? 

“Could you just- … Just wait here a second. I’ll be right back.” 

And Victor didn’t even give the other man a chance to reply, taking off after the young boy. He followed the path Yuri took to the atrium, and pushed the first set of doors out of his way.

“YURI!”

The teenager paused with his hands on a door, ready to push them open and make an escape out into the cold. With obviously tense shoulders, Yuri threw him a distant look.

“What Victor?”

“Where are you going? Aren’t you coming back with me? I- I’d like you to come back with me, Yuri.”

Something unreadable flashed in the boy’s eyes then, but was gone before Victor could even get a grasp on the emotion. Cold eyes stared back at him. 

“No. I need to go home. My bus will be here any second. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

No emotion. No expression. Nothing was in the almost unrecognizable voice that came from the other’s mouth. It shocked Victor so much that he didn’t even know how to respond. 

And before he knew it, Yura was out the door, hustling down the busy street towards the bus stop.

It took a second before Victor snapped out of his thoughts to remember that he had left Yuuri standing by the rink in a rush to catch up to the teenager. He spun around quickly, a deep frown of unsettlement on his face. 

As he was about to go back into the arena, someone cleared their throat. 

Marisha sat behind her desk as usual, oversized glasses taking up about half of her pale face. Her hair was in a nest on the top of her head, and her chin was tucked into her palm facing up while her elbow was resting on the desk. Her eyes held hundreds of words that Victor just couldn’t decipher. 

“What?” He asked cooly, suddenly exhausted with emotions and not wanting to play any of her silly games. 

Marisha sent him a sly smirk.

“I haven’t called Yuuri a car yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I love feedback more than anything, my dears!!! Thank you for reading!!!
> 
> 'Zvezda' - 'star' ;)
> 
> (OH AND ALSO OVER 1000 HITS WHAT EVEN IS THAT OMG I AM SO THANKFUL AHHHHHHH)


	8. Ride Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! 
> 
> Welp, it looks like I caught the plague! I tested positive for COVID this week and it's been HELL since! I've lost my sense of smell and taste guys... my senses are only 3/5! It's awful! And not I'm completely quarantined for a while :( guess I'll just have more time to write lol :)
> 
> This is a long SOFT chapter... expect ALL the feels!!! <3
> 
> !!! Warnings though: small mentions of panic attacks and depression! 
> 
> Enjoy :)

“Oh no, please, you don’t need to do that at all. You’ve had a long day, you probably want to get home already. I can just wait for Marisha to arrange something.” 

There was absolutely  _ no  _ way that this was happening. Did he fall asleep in the locker rooms? Was he in some sort of fantasy dream? Or was this a nightmare? Yuuri couldn’t tell, but he knew that this couldn’t  _ actually  _ be real! 

But as Yuuri held tighter to his crutch, looking around spastically in an attempt to avoid looking into Victor Nikiforov’s  _ blue, blue, blue _ eyes, the ringing in his ears and the throbbing of his knee told him that this was, in fact: reality. Painful, awkward, uncomfortable reality.

“Katsuki Yuuri, I really don’t mind. Like I mentioned before, I only live a little farther into the country than you. You do so much for me! Let me do this for you!” 

Yuuri sputtered awkwardly, turning back to the taller man with accusing eyes. 

“Me  _ being here _ is what I get for helping you, Victor. You owe me nothing.”

Mari had always said that when Yuuri was feeling at his most uncomfortable, he would resort to aggression. Sharp words, accusations that didn’t matter, glares like daggers… and Yuuri absolutely  _ hated  _ himself for it. 

At first he thought she was just being a big sister, poking at him to get under his skin. But then, once when Phichit cornered him into meeting the neighbors across the hall, he exploded. It was like he was a volcano and a rush of mean remarks spilled from him like hot lava. And he couldn’t control it- couldn’t stop it. 

Yes, he was frustrated with Phichit for putting him in a situation where he would be uncomfortable, but the words flew out before he could think. A survival instinct, perhaps.  _ Man, he was pathetic _ .

He didn’t  _ mean _ them either. He just said what he knew would hurt Phichit enough to let him  _ out _ of the meeting. 

When he got back into his room a few moments later- a silent Phichit entering into the apartment across the hall by himself- Yuuri cried for hours. He  _ hated  _ himself for attacking his best friend - his  _ only  _ friend- like that. He was stupid and mean and everything bad in the world all rolled up into one unsteady, untalented man and-

Phichit didn’t speak to him for three days. 

And the tension got to Yuuri. After so many sleepless nights and silent days, Yuuri couldn’t take it anymore. So with dark bags under his eyes, wet cheeks, and bloody palms, Yuuri threw himself through Phichit’s bedroom door. The Thai man had been in his bed at the time, movie playing on his laptop as he watched with sleepy eyes. 

And- his best friend,  _ god _ . How did Yuuri get so lucky to have someone like Phichit in his life? He didn’t deserve him. Not at all. 

But when Phichit looked up from his film and took in the sight of his  _ mess _ of a roommate, all he did was open up his arms wide. Yuuri fell into Phichit’s warm chest then, sobbing and muttering an endless string of apologies. 

He didn’t deserve the forgiveness, but Phichit gave it anyway.

As Yuuri took in Victor’s furrowed brow and slight frown on those  _ perfect _ lips, he couldn’t help but dig his nails into his palms further.  _ God- He was doing it again, wasn’t he? What was wrong with him!? _

“Sor-”

“I know I don’t  _ owe  _ you anything. I  _ want  _ to do this for you. There’s a difference. But if you really object to it that much, I can go ask Marisha to call you a car after all.”

Victor’s voice was firm when it interrupted Yuuri’s pathetic excuse of an apology. Firm, but not unkind. He was speaking matter-of-factly, as if he was bargaining for a business deal and not offering an acquaintance a simple ride home. Cold… Yeah, his voice had turned cold. 

It bit at Yuuri’s mind, causing him to scratch  _ harder _ at his poor palms. 

His eyes searched around them nervously, trying to find  _ anything _ to take the attention off of himself. But his search came up short. They were the only ones still standing in the complex after the long day. Yuuri guessed that someone would be coming in to run the zamboni over the ice and prepare it for tomorrow at some point, but that didn’t really help him now. 

He swallowed, ignoring the slight tingle in his throat. 

“Well, no. I- I mean… If you really don’t mind…”

His voice sounded as weak as he felt.

Yuuri chanced a glance at the other man’s face. Victor stood still, biting his bottom lip in thought as he clearly tried to make sense of Yuuri’s anxious antics. 

Then he smiled. Victor’s teeth let go of his bottom lips and swooped into a smile instead. It was as beautiful as Yuuri remembered always seeing on the posters and magazine articles. The same ‘Victor Nikiforov Smile’ that charmed people all over the world… So why did Yuuri think it looked so… tight? 

“Alright. Well since I don’t mind at all, let’s head out. My car is parked just down the street.”

Yuuri didn’t respond. He only nodded, and pulled his backpack a little higher up on his back. 

Victor held the doors open for Yuuri so he could scoot out with his awkward crutch a little easier. And although he was very appreciative of the help, muttering a ‘thank you’ under his breath each time, the act did make him feel a little bit helpless. 

When the two men crossed Marisha’s desk and headed towards the doors, she sat there with a sticky smile on her face. She gave them a wiggle-finger wave, her eyes crinkling up slightly at the corners. 

“Bye boys. Have a nice ride home!”

Victor muttered something in Russian behind Yuuri’s back that caused Marisha to burst out laughing. 

Yuuri frowned, glancing over his shoulder and meeting Victor’s eyes. He hummed in a questioning tone. 

“Nothing! Ignore her… Let me grab the door for you!”

The words were fast and fumbly, and they made Yuuri all the more confused. 

Victor quickly reached around Yuuri, making sure he got to the second set of doors first. He pushed it open, holding it until the other man crossed the threshold and was completely outside. 

Big, heavy snow flakes were starting to fall as the sun set and evening pushed in. The frigid air bit at Yuuri’s ears and his fingertips. Although the sight was almost unbearably stunning to look at, every time a snowflake fell and hit Yuuri, he could feel the wetness soak into his hair and clothes.

They made their way down the damp staircase that adorned the front of the complex. Yuuri moved slowly from not being used to carrying half his weight on crutches and Victor moved equally as slow next to him, his hands out like he was ready to catch the other man if anything were to happen.

By the time they made it down to the sidewalk along the busy street, Yuuri already felt numb.

Victor’s car was pretty close to the arena after all. It only took them a few minutes to get there, but it felt longer to Yuuri given what the temperature was doing to him. Hasetsu winters were cold… Detroit winters were colder…. But this. He’s never experienced a cold like this. 

Yuuri almost walked right past the shiny black Tesla, too focused on digging his chin into the collar of his sweatshirt to find a little bit of warmth.

“Hold on, I’m right here.” Victor spoke quietly, pressing a button on his keyset that made the car’s lights flash. 

With a blush lingering on his cheeks, and not from the cold, Yuuri maneuvered himself a few steps back. 

Victor was holding the passenger side door open for Yuuri to get in. Yuuri wanted to tell Victor that he didn’t need to treat him quite so delicately, but the frozen breeze that came off the river caused him to get into the car immediately. After he lowered himself down into the seat, he slipped his backpack out from behind him and placed it between his spread legs. He was about to fiddle with his crutch to find the best way to hold it, but Victor grabbed onto it before he could.

“Here, let me put this in the back seat. That way it won’t bother you as much.”

Before he knew it, the crutch was pulled from his shivering fingers and his door was firmly shut. It took Yuuri a moment for his brain to catch up with reality, the back door opening and closing before he could get his bearings. 

After a second, Victor was settling into the driver's seat next to him.

“The car usually warms up pretty quick, luckily. You’ll feel better in no time.” Victor spoke with a smile clear in his tone, pressing a button to start the car. Huh, Yuuri’s never seen that before. 

After fiddling around with the temperature control, and setting up all vents to shoot hot air directly at Yuuri, Victor wrapped his seatbelt around himself. Yuuri followed his lead, buckling himself up with numb fingers.

Victor got them onto the road pretty quickly considering the evening traffic that came with rush hour. They were soon sitting in a steady stream of cars, creeping along towards the edge of the city. 

It was odd, Yuuri thought, how Victor opted to leave the radio off during the drive instead of filling the space between them with some sort of music. He found that he didn’t hate it though… it was sort of nice. 

Yuuri didn’t know how to break the silence, and he hoped Victor would do it so he didn’t have to. 

And as always, Victor Nikiforov never disappoints Yuuri. 

“Just one more day of the week, huh? Then we finally get the weekend.” The words were strangely tight as they came out of the Russian man’s perfect mouth. It made Yuuri frown a little bit.

Maybe Victor was the only person on earth who didn’t like the weekends. 

Yuuri, for one, loved the weekend. He used to look forward to not having to get out of his bed until lunch time, and then making the short journey to the couch, where he would lay all day with Phichit, beating him at any and every video game they owned. Sometimes Phichit would convince him to get up and take a walk around the large campus they lived on. Other times they would take the bus downtown to where their favorite strip mall was, visiting the pet shop, the video game store, and picking up Ramen all in one go. 

Or… He used to love the weekends. 

He was sort of dreading Saturday and Sunday at the moment, unsure what he should do with himself in the foreign country. 

“I should probably go shopping for a real parka, shouldn’t I?” 

The words came out before the Japanese man could pull them back in. He didn’t mean to speak them aloud, but sometimes he did that. Sometimes he didn’t know what was in his head and what wasn’t. 

“I would recommend it! I couldn’t help but notice how you haven’t showed up in anything more than a sweater. I am sorry to say, Yuuri, but that really won’t cut it for a Russian winter.” 

Victor pulled the car to a stop when the light above them turned red. 

Like the car, Victor’s voice warmed up as well. It now sounded tender and full - soft in a way that shouldn’t make Yuuri’s heart tingle… but it did. 

The laugh Yuuri let out was nothing but awkward panic at his own reaction to his idols voice.

“My roommate back home, Phichit, packed up my stuff and shipped it here a few days ago. We couldn’t afford to express, so it probably won’t get here for another two to three weeks. I just hate the idea of buying another parka when I have a perfectly good one coming in the mail…”

He caught himself babbling nervously and quickly clasped his mouth shut in embarrassment. When he glanced over at Victor in the driver's seat, he was nodding understandingly. And the words just  _ kept _ tumbling out of his stupid mouth!

“I better just bite the bullet and buy one though. I just don’t want to go to the store alone when I really know  _ nothing  _ of this area - or this country, actually - at all. Maybe if I wait I could get Oksana to go with me during a lunch break next week. Although I really don’t want to inconvenience her in any way…”

_ Oh gosh! _ STOP! He couldn’t stop stammering! It felt like the words were choking him to get out.

“I could probably just wait for mine to show up. I mean- I’ve been wearing multiple sweatshirts at a time, you know. Like right now- my Team Japan jacket is underneath this. Although- I do think it keeps getting colder and colder… if that’s even possible.”

Yuuri silently begged Victor to cut him off and put him out of his misery. But he  _ couldn’t  _ stop! His anxiety spewed out of him in the form of incoherent words that didn’t matter. It was almost painful, and Yuuri’s cheeks flushed, the blush going all the way up to his ears.

He bit down hard on his bottom lip - forcing himself to stop. As he tasted copper on his tongue, his nails scratched harder at his palms. 

Victor accelerated the car once again as the light switched to green, inching closer to Yuuri’s escape. 

_ Of course he would be too polite to interrupt.  _ Even now Yuuri found him all the more charming.

“Unfortunately for us all, the coldest part of the season usually comes next month. Until then, it’ll just keep getting worse. So you could wait, but you might freeze before then.” 

And Victor’s voice was  _ calm _ . Like he didn’t think Yuuri was crazy with all his stumbling and nervous fluttering. It was soft and patient. It was  _ everything _ .

Immediately Yuuri felt more intact, more peaceful. 

The car was warm around him. He wasn’t thinking about how  _ embarrassing  _ he was or how much his knee hurt. The traffic was letting up, and the sun finally dipped below the horizon, an amber glow calling in the night's darkness. 

Yuuri could feel himself relax,  _ finally _ settling into the car ride with Victor.

“Here we are, Yuuri. Sir Ivanov Estates.”

_ Of course _ Yuuri stopped himself from enjoying a simple experience because of his anxiety. That was his specialty. 

Yuuri sighed as they pulled up to the curb in front of the tall, black building complex. As he started to unbuckle himself and gather his bag between his feet, Victor turned off the engine and was out the drivers door before Yuuri could make sense of it. He couldn’t help but to freeze for a moment, confused as to what was going on. 

The passenger door was pulled open without Yuuri even noticing that Victor had made his way around the whole car. Cold wind rushed into the car, and Yuuri blinked a few times in surprise, looking up. 

Victor was standing there, one hand on the door and the other reaching out towards Yuuri. His pale, delicate hand was offered to Yuuri as if it meant nothing… as if it wasn’t  _ that  _ big of a deal. 

His blue eyes sparkled, all glossy from the cool wind sweeping between them. A soft peach painted the tops of his cheeks and his still slightly damp silver hair blew around his face, fluttering. 

Yuuri could not move. 

Yuuri could not breath.

Unfortunately, Victor seemed to take Yuuri’s frozen state in the wrong way. He suddenly looked a bit awkward, questioning himself as he pulled back his hand slightly. He blinked rapidly, and the peach on his cheeks became more pronounced. 

“I-”

“No! I- I mean… Thank you.”

Yuuri unthinkingly cut the other man’s voice off with a burst. He quickly reached up and grabbed the soft hand before it could be pulled away from him. 

Victor’s skin was cold, hard, and his fingers were boney. It wasn’t what Yuuri had been expecting - _what had Yuuri been expecting?_ \- but Yuuri held on tight. Suddenly, Yuuri _really_ felt how cold Victor’s fingers were… and he wanted to be the one to warm them up. 

Strange.

Victor’s fingers clutched Yuuri’s hand back and started to help pull him up and out of the car. 

Yuuri couldn’t help but to wince once he was up on his own two feet. His knee hurt more than it has since his injury. A hot pain was settled on the inside of his right knee, and he couldn’t help but to squeeze Victor’s hand a little tighter as he took in the ache.

“Are you okay?” Victor was quick to ask, moving his other hand from the car door to Yuuri’s other elbow, trying his best to hold the Japanese man up. 

Even the deep rooted pain in his knee couldn’t stop Yuuri from noticing how  _ good  _ Victor’s hands felt on him. His hand and his elbow tingled slightly and his stomach did somersaults. He slowly looked up, seeing the worry in the ice blue eyes above him. 

_ No.  _ Worry  _ did not _ belong there.  _ Never _ .

“Yes, sorry. Just a bit sore I guess.” Yuuri quickly spoke in a voice only a little louder than a whisper, trying to get that concerned look out of Victor’s eyes. He was surprised his words didn’t get swept away with the brisk wind.

A car quickly passing by them honked, and both men jumped in surprise. While Yuuri’s grip eased a little, Victor stayed tightly clutching him. A second later they made eye contact again, and, to absolutely no one’s surprise, Yuuri blushed like he was on fire.

“Will you be okay to stand on your own if I let you go? I’d like to grab the crutch for you.”

Yuuri could only muster up an embarrassed nod, dropping his eyes to the cement under their feet. 

Victor’s hands slowly moved, releasing the other man centimeter by centimeter. When he had fully removed his support, Yuuri stood still. Standing suddenly felt a lot harder without the support.

It only took Victor about a second to grab the crutch from the back seat of the car and return to Yuuri. 

Yuuri watched as Victor focused meticulously on setting the crutch down and then maneuvering it under Yuuri’s right arm. He fiddled with the placement for a few moments until he was satisfied with its location. Then he looked up at Yuuri, motioning for him to lean his weight on it. 

He followed.  _ Of course _ he did what Victor wanted him to. How could he ever go against it?

The crutch was in the perfect position to hold Yuuri’s weight away from his right knee. His left hand clutched his bag tight, and his eyes stayed glued to the Russian man’s face.

“There.” Victor spoke with a pleased expression, taking a step back. He shut the passenger door and suddenly, there was nothing left to do. Yuuri had to go in his building now. Yuuri had to leave Victor’s presence. Again. 

Why did it feel so  _ significant - difficult - sad  _ \- this time?

“Thank you, Victor. For everything - the ride, all the help. I - … I appreciate it  _ so  _ much.” 

Victor just gave him a soft, closed mouth smile, nodding once. His eyes shone too, just like Yuuri could feel his own were.

A weird air settled around the pair. Soft, but almost sticky. Heavy, but feather light. Blazing, but  _ oh so  _ dull. 

Both of their hearts ached, and neither of them really knew  _ why _ . 

\--

Victor had never felt warmer in his  _ entire  _ life than he did right now. 

As he watched Yuuri hobble into his condo building, the doorman holding the door open for him, Victor couldn’t ignore the building in his chest. 

Maybe building wasn’t quite the right word. 

His chest  _ filled _ , swirling and skipping underneath his thick skin occurred in a strange, beautiful way. He couldn’t tell you what it was filling with, or how this odd occurrence even started… but he knew it was something he never felt before. 

And it threw him off balance! 

And not just physically, where his head felt light and he wanted to twirl around under the street lights until everything became a stunning, mindless blur.

But it also threw his  _ life _ off balance. Or… the life that he thought he knew.

Suddenly - but not so suddenly at all because he feels like he knew this was coming- ever since he looked into those mahogany eyes that made the ice surrounding his heart crack a tiny fracture. Suddenly he saw his life in a new light. 

His life… his pointless, repetitive, bland life. How had he lived in this life for so long without  _ warmth _ ? 

How did he make it this far? 

The dark haired man finally made his way through the entrance, slowly fading away from Victor’s vision and inviting the chill back into this painful life he had become so accustomed to. Although the feeling was  _ oh so familiar _ \- something that he realized he had begun relying on- it was not welcome. 

Not when he has felt the softness of another strong hand in his. Not when he’s felt the heat of focused eyes on him, asking for nothing and expecting even less. Not when he’s seen how he  _ could  _ feel. How his life  _ could  _ be. 

No. This unbearable, deathly freeze was not welcome in his life anymore. 

He  _ couldn’t _ do it anymore. 

With a shake of his head, he finally tore his eyes away from the condo building where his  _ warmth _ disappeared. His fingers tingle, and Victor could feel his slightly damp hair turning into icicles before his eyes. 

His movements were a blur.

He was back in his car.

He was pulling into his garage.

He was arriving up at his apartment, greeting Makka with a numb smile. 

And he realized, his time spent with his  _ warmth _ never felt like this. Each moment spent with the  _ warmth _ felt bright, all-consuming, alive.  _ He _ felt bright, all-consuming, alive. 

Victor knew what he had to choose.

He just hopped that the  _ warmth _ would choose something as frozen and jagged as him.

\--

“I don’t know Peach. He’s… He’s different.”

Yuuri spoke quietly, blushing deeply and hoping that his best friend would not be able to pick it up through the pixels. He ran a hand through his thick hair, pushing it away from his eyes. His glasses rested on the coffee table next to his laptop, so his vision wasn’t quite clear. 

It’s been about an hour since Victor dropped him off. And his mind was  _ still  _ swirling. 

He should be asleep. Or  _ at least _ be in bed right now. But there was an excited thrum running under his skin that left him restless and, honestly, a bit on edge. 

So, like he always did when his brain felt too full and thoughts were  _ pounding _ at every inch of his being, he talked to Phichit. 

“What do you mean  _ different _ , Yuu-chan? Bad different? Is he mean? I swear if he is being mean to you I will-”

“No! No, no, no, no!”

Yuuri was quick to shut that idea down. He waved his hands in front of the camera, frantically trying to expel that idea from existence.  _ Of course _ Victor wasn’t mean! That’s not what he meant at all. 

Yuuri sighed, tucking his feet underneath his bum a little bit further. He glanced outside at the window, taking in the sight as he tried to organize his thoughts a little bit.

It was completely dark outside now. No more sun lighting up the world like a scene at the end of a movie. Pitch black took its place, and it strangely made Yuuri’s heart settle a bit. The giant light outside his window lit up the night just enough to see the thick snowflakes falling quickly.

When he looked back at the computer screen, Phichit was waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts and choose his words.

“It’s like… Victor is not who the world says he is. The idea we’ve had of him isn’t… isn’t reality, Phichit. He’s not loud or obnoxious. He’s not overbearing or aggressive. I know I’ve only been here for a week, but he’s not… exuberant or full of himself. He’s… He’s nothing like the world claims.”

Did his words even make sense anymore? He was trying so hard to explain this - but he was struggling to find the words to properly convey his message. 

Part of his was still shell shocked that The Victor Nikiforov was  _ not _ who he was working with everyday. Well, it  _ was _ Victor Nikiforov… but not who he was prepared for. Victor wasn’t  _ the  _ Victor that Yuuri grew up idolizing. 

… He was somehow  _ so much more. _

Phichit hummed in though, his chopsticks mindlessly playing with the pad thai noodles in the take-out container in front of him. The sound pulled Yuuri out of his thoughts.

“Alright. What is he like then? Tell me about the  _ real  _ Victor Nikiforov.”

Immediately Yuuri’s mind jumped to a hundred different places. All the ideas bubbled in his chest, begging to come out. But Yuuri picked through his thoughts carefully, choosing his words so they came out as he intended.

“Well… for starters, Victor is very quiet. Like, I don’t even realize when he’s around sometimes. I’ve always thought that he would be the center of attention one hundred percent of the time. But that’s not it at all. He listens and watches and weighs everything, like every single word he says needs to be perfectly stated at all times. Like he  _ can’t _ make a mistake and slip up ever. So he really considered everything he does and says  _ all the time _ . It’s… odd?”

Phichit, nodded in thought, bringing some noodles up and into his mouth. 

“And he’s so thoughtful, Phichit. He acts like he needs to be perfect and needs to be helping someone  _ constantly _ . It’s strange… He’s always trying to fix someone's problems or help them out with something. Kind of like he  _ needs _ to focus on something or someone else.”

A confused look washed over Phichit’s face now as he chewed and swallowed his late lunch. 

“He’s also… I don’t know. Cold? Empty? He’s always painted as such a happy, outgoing guy, you know? But he’s not like that, Peach. When I look at him, it’s like he’s as frozen as the ice he skates on. And he tries to hide it with smiles and stuff, but they’re not that convincing. Not when he’s not in front of a camera, at least.”

Yuuri took a second to swallow, debating whether to add the next part or not. He decided to go for it, licking his lips before he started. He now spoke in a very quiet voice.

“I- I would  _ never  _ assume anything. At all. Really… But when I look at him, he kind of reminds me of how Mari was before I left Japan.”

Phichit’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he even stumbled with his chopsticks, dropping a mouthful of noodles back into the container. He quickly set them down on the table, pulling his laptop a little bit closer. 

Yuuri’s nails started scratching at his palms nervously.  _ Oh gosh, he should have left that part out… _

“You’re thinking that Victor’s depressed? Really? Oh man…”

Yuuri groaned in frustration.

“Obviously I don’t  _ actually  _ know that. And I would never, ever bring it up to anyone. It’s just a thought. I don’t know… maybe I’m crazy! Something is just so… sad about him. It really bothers me.”

“Man! Victor’s got  _ everything _ ! Why would he be dep-”

Yuuri shot Phichit a sharp glare through the screen, and the other man’s words immediately cut off. 

“Sorry… Sorry. Gosh, I’m stupid. I didn’t mean that, you know I understand mental health better than that. You taught me so much but sometimes my mind reverts back before I can think about it.”

Phichit was so quick to apologize that Yuuri almost felt bad for glaring. He knew that Phichit had grown up in a very strict home where mental health wasn’t a real thing. He was raised to believe that everyone was  _ fine _ unless they chose otherwise. 

Luckily, when they first met, Phichit seemed to be open minded enough to learn from Yuuri. He learned that mental health issues - like depression, or anxiety - weren’t something anyone chose. That no one would ever choose to feel like that and that it was an imbalance of hormones in the brain. Yuuri taught him how  _ awful  _ and  _ real _ these things were. And that a person had no control over if they happened, but they  _ did  _ have control over how they lived with them.

“You’re not stupid Phichit. It’s okay… Maybe I am completely off. I don’t know.”

Yuuri sighed, dropping his head back against the couch. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, trying to calm his mind down enough to be able to handle it. There was a quiet rumbling on the screen, but suddenly Yuuri was too tired to even look.

“ _ Oh man, Yuuri!  _ It is really past midnight there? And you are still awake!”

Yuuri laughed under his breath to himself. He had wondered how long it would take for Phichit to realize what time it was in Russia. He rubbed his eyes once more before lifting his head to look back at the bright laptop screen. He just nodded.

“You, my best friend, need sleep. I can see the thoughts beating you up as we sit here. Get to bed, Yuu-chan, and try to get some sleep. I’ll call you this weekend and we can continue this chat, okay?”

Yuuri smiled and Phichit’s rushed attempt to get him off the call and into bed. His best friend was so cute and thoughtful he once again wondered how he got so lucky. 

“Alright. I’ll head to bed now. See you this weekend?”

The talk had helped Yuuri actually feel a lot better. Getting his thoughts out of his brain and into the space in front of him made them so much more clear and manageable. 

Relieved, Yuuri finally felt like he could fall asleep for the night.

“Of course. Sleep well!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please please let me know what you think! I personally LOVED this chapter so I would love to hear your opinions! 
> 
> Also, feel free to share this story (link, DO NOT COPY) with friends!! :) 
> 
> Thank you SO much for reading and, as always...
> 
> STAY TUNED ;)


	9. Unwanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. A lot has happened friends. 
> 
> I feel like I should apologize for leaving you all on chapter 8. I wanted to write and post so bad- but life just got in the way. I've honestly never felt this pressure or this extreme amount of stress before. New jobs (especially being a teacher during a global pandemic) are really, really hard!!
> 
> Anyways, I've had most of the chapter written for a while now. I just had to find an okay way to wrap it but before Chapter 10. 
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with me... I don't think you'll be disappointed. 
> 
> *** Warning- Mentions of child abuse. (You will NOT see anything- just some heartbreaking post affects. But don't worry, this was an important turning point for our baby.)

Marisha had been dreaming - like any sane person  _ should _ be at this hour. Her snores were loud in the crowded, tiny apartment. They echoed off the many windows lining the outside walls. 

Her head was resting on the textbook in front of her, as if it were a pillow. Her whole body was slouched over the rickety desk she owned, and her long hair was scattered over practically the entire table top. 

Her dream had been a nice one, actually. Filled with warm sun and happy smiles from her many siblings. 

She was torn away from the dream much too soon.

Marisha jumped with surprise as her phone suddenly sprang to life under her numb elbow. It vibrated and rang, disrupting the peace of her small space. 

“What the fu-”

When Marisha had flinched from the sudden noise, she accidentally stepped on her cat’s tail. The snarl from the cat made Marisha even more disoriented. 

“Shit! Sorry Ufa! I - ugh!!”

Ufa scuttled away before Marisha could pick him up. 

The alarm clock on her desk showed 4:50. The sun was barely rising, just a burnt yellow glow was beginning to consume the lower half of the sky. When she looked higher, she saw that the stars were still out, a dull shine against the deep indigo.

Her phone had stopped ringing by then, and she looked at the open textbook on her desk. With a sigh, Marisha figured she must have fallen asleep while studying again. She reached down and closed the textbook, her eyes feeling heavy once more.

She was about to turn around and fall onto her creaky twin sized bed, when her  _ stupid _ phone started to go off again. 

With an angry huff, she snagged if from her desk, and answered it before looking to see who it was. 

“Whoever this is, you  _ better _ have a real good reason for calling so  _ damn _ early because I swear on the stars I will  _ tear _ you apart if you don’t.” She seethed into the phone, hot red anger flashing in her mind.

But the soft voice, full of desperation, on the other end of the call quickly put out the burning fire inside of her. Instead it brought in a sense of fear and dread - all her fight gone. 

And before she knew it, the phone call was over. The dial tone rang in her ear for a minute as she tried to orient herself with the situation ahead of her. 

Marisha sighed and slowly moved the phone away from her ear, pressing the ‘end call’ button. She rubbed at her eyes, stressed and so frustrated that her day had to start out  _ this _ way. 

Her back was sore as she quickly moved around her small apartment space. It ached as she bent down over her desk, shoving all her textbooks into her shoulder bag. She really needs to stop falling asleep at her desk. At this rate, her back will be bad by the time she turns 30. 

There were clothes scattered all around her lofted bedroom, and she quickly sorted through them, using her nose to sniff out the cleanest articles. She layered a thick sweater over her turtleneck, letting it fall down past her jean covered hips. Thick socks and waterproof boots were a must, as the snow continued to fall outside her window. 

Jumping down from her lofted bedroom area, she landed on the linoleum floor of her tiny kitchen with a dull thud. For a second she debated making tea, but she decided she didn’t have the time. It already took her too long to get dressed. 

Ufa  _ meowed _ loudly from where he was looking down at Marisha from the loft. He could easily get down by himself, but Marisha knew he was playing victim still from her stepping on his tail. 

“Cut it out, Ufa. I said I was sorry.”

She muttered to her cat, quickly dumping some dry kibble into his food dish. Marisha made sure he had fresh water to drink, knowing she wouldn’t be back till much later. 

After remembering that she left her knee-length black parka on the table, she reached for it and shoved her arms through the holes. Mittens, wool scarf, shoulder bag on. Lastly she gathered up her knotty dyed hair, bringing the elbow length hair up over her head and  _ twisting, wrapping, twisting, wrapping _ . She shoved all the hair into a beanie, making sure none peaked out from below the black knit. 

Suddenly, the apartment was as quiet as it had been 10 minutes ago.

Out the living room window she went. 

Marisha found that using the fire escapes actually were a lot more convenient, landing her closer to the main street than the actual front door to her building. Plus, she doesn’t have to go by her landlord’s apartment this way.

After climbing down the six flights of outdoor, metal stairs, she grabbed the railing and dangled herself down until she was a few meters away from the pavement below. She let go, carefully landing in a crouched position in the alley way. 

Moving to a standing position, she lightly rubbed at her sore lower back.

A heavy metal door opened swiftly to her left, and she started walking down the alleyway and towards the main street. A large man stepped out with a bag of garbage, whistling a cheerful toon. 

“Ah! Good morning, Marisha! You are up early today, no?” The large man spoke in thick Russian when he noticed the slender girl slinking down the alley.

“The early bird gets the worm, Caleb!” Marisha shouted back, flashing him a quick, tired smile before jogging the rest of the way to the main street, avoiding the many potholes that littered the path.

The cold hit Marisha like a bullet when she stepped out onto the busy main street. The dingy alley walls had blocked the wind before, but now, not so much. 

Marisha weaved in and out of the crowds, trying to move as fast as she could in the morning hustle and bustle. The wind coming off the river right across the street was bitter, and it bit at her cheeks in a painful way.

It took her less than five minutes to get to her destination. 

She stomped up the stairs in an over dramatic way, scowling under her breath. She dug for her keyring in her pocket, struggling to grab it while still wearing her mittens. 

She refused to even look at the young, blonde boy standing at the building's entrance as she worked on unlocking the doors. 

“You are so lucky you’re cute.” She grumbled.

\--

Yuri’s small hands tugged roughly at the water knob, desperately trying to get the water to run hotter even though he knew it already hit it’s heat limits. 

The whole shower area was soaked in steam and he could barely see his own hands in front of him. The shower head above poured scalding water down onto his raw skin, but it wasn’t hot  _ enough _ . 

His skin was a painful red, hair wet with water and sweat, and a scream was bubbling in his throat, almost choking him to come out. His chest heaved, and he pulled harder,  _ harder, harder. _

It  _ wasn’t  _ hot enough.

He could still feel  _ her _ fingers on him.

A sob escaped, and his knees wobbled uncharacteristically underneath him. He tried  _ so hard _ to keep his cries in, to keep himself together, but the water  _ wasn’t  _ hot enough to burn off the invisible marks his  _ own  _ mother left on him. 

His cheeks.

His neck.

His shoulders.

The small of his back.

His hips.

They tingled with the ghostly memory of Yulia’s unwanted fingers. Uninvited and unwanted. Yuri  _ didn’t  _ want it. He hadn’t wanted it. 

His hands slipped off the steel lever, hot water and hot tears burning his eyes. His knees gave out then, and there he was, on his hands and knees on the shower floor. Another sob tore through his tight chest. 

It was so gross. Usually, Yuri would never even step into these showers without his shower shoes. And that was only if he wasn’t going back to Victor’s for the night. He could always rely on a warm, clean shower at Victor’s.

But he felt nothing now. 

He was empty.

Weak and empty.

Under the boiling hot water stream, Yuri cried, clawing roughly at his skin. He scratched violently at the places she touched, like he could remove the memory of his mother’s  _ appalling _ graze.

\--

Victor felt lighter as he made his way up the steps leading to the sports complex today. 

He had actually slept last night! And slept pretty well, at that. Usually his mind was so  _ heavy _ , so  _ full _ that it never let him take a break and get the rest that he really needed. The long hours his brain kept him up at night made for an exhausted day ahead, and then the pattern would just continue to repeat.

Until last night.

As soon as his head hit the pillow the night before, he was out cold. 

Victor can’t remember the last time he had slept that good. 

Before he even had his keys out of his pockets, he noticed that the lights in the foyer were on.

_ ‘Strange’,  _ Victor thought.

He was always the first one to the complex. Every morning that he wasn’t waking up in a different country for a competition, he was the one to first unlock the doors and flip on the lights. But… the lights were on. And when Victor tested the doors, they were already unlocked. 

__ “Hmmmm,” He wondered aloud, glancing down at his smart watch. 

5:40

A little later than he usually showed up, but still much too early for anyone else to be here yet.

The crisp wind was the final push that had Victor shouldering the doors open and stepping into the foyer. The way the wind was sweeping off the river was in no way comfortable, and it chilled him down to the very bone. Once he was inside, he shifted the bags hanging from his arms around. 

At first glance, it looked as if Marisha’s welcome desk was empty. But upon further inspection, Victor could see over the small counter that she was asleep leaning over the table. She was a blur of pale skin and black fabric, and quiet snores filled the space around them.

“Marisha.” He tried, wondering if he should just let her sleep. 

But something seemed off…

Marisha did nothing but grunt at him, curling her parka covered arms around her head tighter. Victor sighed, reaching over the counter and nudging at her shoulder.

“Marisha… Did you sleep here?”

The girl grunted louder this time, but shifted to a sitting position in her chair. Dark bags hung under her dead-looking eyes, and there were creases on her checks from where her jacket folds had dug into the sensitive skin as she slept.

She sent him a dirty glare.

“ _ NO,  _ I did not  _ sleep _ here last night, Victor Nikiforov. Our little friend,  _ The Ice Fairy of Russia _ , called me this morning, AT FIVE AM, and asked me to come unlock the doors. And,  _ of course _ , since I live to serve you professional skaters and give you everything you should desire, I came. And he didn’t even say  _ thank you _ ! He just stalked off into the locker rooms,”

Victor flinched at her tone. His reaction made her glare even harder.

“NOW, if you don’t mind,  _ sir _ ,” she seethed. “I am going back to sleep. DO NOT bother me again if you wish to live to your 27th birthday.”

With that, her head dropped back down onto her arms. No more words were spoken.

Wow, she even mentioned his age. Victor had never seen her  _ this _ mad before. 

But he had other things on his mind.

_ ‘Yuri called her this morning? At 5 am to get into the rink?... Oh no.’ _

Something was wrong.  _ Very, very _ wrong.

With a silent gasp, Victor was through the second set of doors and into the arena in no time. He practically ran past the community lockers and straight to the team locker rooms. He pushed the heavy wood door open, and stopped in his tracks in the doorway.

“Is that a  _ cat _ ?”

The question came out of his mouth before he could even think about it.

There, sitting on one of the benches in front of the lines of lockers, was a fluffy white cat. The cat had a brown face, and it had one paw up. Oddly, the cat licked at her paw, not even bothering to look at Victor. 

The sounds of the locker room caught up with Victor then. 

A shower running. The drain working hard to catch the overflow of water. And  _ sobs.  _

Victor’s heart simultaneously stopped and split clean in half at the same time.

“ _ Yuri. Yuri!  _ Yuri!”

His voice started as a pained whisper, but quickly morphed into panic as he rushed into the large space. He ignored the cat now, moving past her and dropping his bags on the way. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the suitcase in front of Yuri’s locker, but right now - it didn’t matter. 

Only Yuri mattered. 

Victor grabbed Yuri’s ratty towel off of the bench, and tried to prepare himself for what he was about to see. 

The attempt had been useless. Nothing could have ever prepared him for what he saw in the shower area. 

He would  _ never _ forget that image.

The sixteen year old boy had never looked younger, smaller than he did right now. Victor could barely see through the steam in the tiled room, but what he did see, made him sick.

The harsh stream of too hot water hit Yuri’s shoulders from where he was down on his knees on the bathroom floor. Sobs were escaping the young boy constantly, almost like he  _ couldn’t _ hold them in. One hand was clutching at his chest, begging it to continue to help him breath. His other hand was scratching at his sides, painful red streaks covering the tender skin.

Victor had never seen anything so disturbing. 

“ _ Yuri… Yuri… Yura.” _

Victor continued to mumble softly as he headed straight into the showers. He avoided the water as best as he could, but didn’t really care if it hit him or not. A drop flew to the skin on his hand and he couldn’t help but to gasp as the scalding temperature. 

He quickly reached out then, wrenching the rusty lever until the water turned off completely. The sobs did not so much as pause, and neither did the scratching. 

“ _ Oh Yura…” _

Moving slowly so as to not startle the young boy, Victor dropped to his knees on the soaking wet tile in front of Yuri. Victor could feel the painfully hot water scald his knees  _ through _ his pants. He ignored it. 

Yuri’s head never moved, continuing to stare down at the floor and sob. His tiny, skinny body trembled.

Victor wrapped the towel carefully around the boy’s red shoulders, tucking it under his chin and running a gentle hand through the damp blonde hair. He had to clear his throat and blink a few tears away before he could speak again.

“ _ Yura. Yura, mahlysh. Let’s get you off the bathroom floor. Come on.” _

Honestly, Victor had no idea what to say. He was never good at comforting people who were hurting. He never thought of himself as a gentle person before. But he wanted  _ nothing  _ more than to be good for Yuri. He  _ had _ to be what Yuri needed right now.

Surprisingly, Yuri moved easily underneath Victor’s hesitant hands. The sobs didn’t stop, the gasping for air never paused, but he allowed Victor to help him to his feet. Immediately Victor wrapped the towel around Yuri more, trying to save him from any embarrassment the young boy might feel later on. 

Their feet moved slowly together, careful to not slip on the slick tile. As soon as they were back in the locker area, Victor could feel Yuri shiver under his supporting arms. 

“It’s okay, Yura. You are safe here with me. You have nothing to worry about because I have you. Let’s sit down, yes?”

Yuri nodded through the tears, sniffling a few times before coughing. Victor didn’t want to think about how sore the poor boy’s throat must be. 

But the sobs were slowing down, thankfully. 

As Victor eased the boy down into a sitting position in front of his locker, Yuri clutched tightly at the towel around his shoulders. And he  _ still  _ wouldn’t look at Victor. 

“I’m going to grab a towel from my locker and then sit next to you, okay?” Victor said as calmly as he could. He figured that talking might help the situation and make them both more comfortable. 

The blonde head bobbed once, and Victor tried to ignore the gasping that came from the boy’s mouth. Instead he focused on moving a few lockers over, twisting the code into his lock and then grabbing the large, clean towel inside. 

As soon as his hands grasped the towel, he was wrapping it around Yuri’s hips, making sure most of his burnt skin was covered. 

A whimper escaped Yuri’s mouth above Victor’s bent over form, and the older man quickly looked up. 

The  _ terror _ in those innocent green eyes made Victor’s already broken heart ache even more. 

“I- I’m s-sorry, Vitya.”

Victor stood back up and sat down next to the quivering young boy. One hand found its way to Yuri’s towel-covered back, and he rubbed softly.

“You have  _ nothing  _ to be sorry for. I mean that, Yura.”

He made sure to make his voice stern but gentle at the same time. He needed to get the idea into the blonde boy’s head, but he didn’t need to scare him. 

And the two sat together.

It was quiet for the most part. Sometimes the drains made weird noises from all the water. Every once in a while, the cat would let out a single ‘ _ meow’ _ . And Yuri lost it a few more times, breaking down with a weak sob that sounded like he was  _ breaking  _ from the inside, out. 

Victor didn’t know how much time was passing, but he continued to sit next to the hurt boy. He  _ didn’t _ care how much time was passing. His loyalty at the moment belonged to Yuri, and no one else. He would sit here with Yuri as long as he needed. As long as it took for Yuri to feel  _ good enough _ to continue living again.

\--

Oksana didn’t let Yuuri do much the entire day. 

They went through slow, gentle stretches that morning instead of the pool workout. During the time he was supposed to be doing his physical therapy exercises, Yuuri had an extended STIM treatment. And then, after lunch, when he was supposed to be working out in the weight room with Oksana, he was forced to visit the clinic's massage therapist. 

Overall, while Yuuri felt a little restless,  _ okay a lot restless _ … He felt good. His knee wasn’t bothering him nearly as much as it has lately. And he didn’t even need to walk with the silly crutch anymore. 

It was a good, restorative day for the hurt athlete.

That was until he walked into the ice arena for his coaching lessons. 

It’s not that the ice arena felt  _ bad _ , per say. But the way that Victor wasn’t warming up by skating quick laps around the rink, and the way that Yuri wasn’t practicing off-ice choreography on the mats off to the side was… weird. 

It was strangely quiet, too. But not like the nice quiet Yuuri had experienced in the car last night with Victor. The quiet was  _ tight  _ and  _ uncomfortable _ . 

Wrong.

Yuuri approached the rink slowly, the backpack over his shoulders weighing him down in an unusual way. He was careful not to make any noises, unsure how his presence would affect the scene in front of him. 

Victor was leaning against the rink wall, talking quietly to Yuri who was sitting in the stands. His face was blank of his usual scowl, instead he just looked  _ tired _ . Too tired. 

As Yuuri slowly approached the pair, both heads turned to look at him. Yuri’s expression stayed blank, but Victor’s face produced a small smile. Like he was happy to have the other man’s incoming company, but was too tired as well to feel any joy.

“Hello, Katsuki Yuuri. How was your day?”

At least Victor’s voice had a genuine kindness to it, like he did actually care. 

Yuuri couldn’t help but to glance at the uncharacteristically quiet teenager again, clearing his throat awkwardly before he could answer. 

“Well, my day was good, thank you. Mostly rehabilitation activities. It was… nice.” Yuuri spoke quietly, internally wincing at how strange his voice sounded in the silent arena. He bowed in greeting to both, holding his place facing the floor to emphasize his respect for both skates. 

Both of the other skaters waited to respond until Yuuri came up from his bow.

“That’s good. I’m sure that is exactly what your injury needed, no? You are walking much better today, even without the crutch.” Victor was quick to point out. 

Yuuri once again wondered how one man could always be so observant of others. 

“Uh yes. I am feeling much better, thank you. Would you like to get started? I brought some gear today that I hoped we could use on the both of you.” 

Victor glanced quickly at the young Russian boy before turning back and nodded to Yuuri with a strained smile. He opened his mouth to say something, and the Japanese man paused in his process of removing his backpack. 

“Yuri actually was hoping that he could postpone his lesson today and start again after the weekend. He will stay and watch my lesson with you, but then he wishes to leave early with me…”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

“That’s no problem  _ at all _ ,” Yuuri started, his hands pausing their journey of unzipping his backpack. “Do you still want to have your lesson, Victor? Or we could just cancel yours as well. Really, it’s been a  _ long _ week, and I would understand…”

Yuuri couldn’t help but trail off, frowning slightly at the disappointed rush in his chest. He tried to push it away, sending the other two men what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  _ Had he been looking forward to spending more time with Victor? _

“Actually, that would be-”

“No. Victor will have his lesson.” The teenager's rough voice cut Victor off as he spoke for the first time. His words were firm, and when Yuuri glanced his direction, Yuri was only staring forward at the ice. 

Victor sighed with exasperation, looking at Yuuri and shrugging. 

And Yuuri waited a moment, giving the two time to change their minds. When they didn’t, Yuuri bit his lip and continued opening up his bag. He set all the gear he would need on the edge of the arena wall. 

“Alright then… Victor, today I want to record you performing your short program step sequence a few times from different angles. With your permission, of course.”

Yuuri couldn’t deny how much more comfortable he was feeling with the idea of playing coach. He was sliding into the position well, and he almost felt natural doing it. 

Heck, who knows? Maybe if he can’t return to skating, he’ll take a chance and take up coaching. He's still a little young to be a coach but…

Victor pulled him out of his  _ ridiculous _ thoughts.

“Absolutely! Do whatever you need, coach!”

And the blush was back.  _ Of course _ it was. Yuuri had to clear his throat a few times before he could respond. He avoided eye contact at all costs. 

“Okay, uhh, go ahead and start warming up, then.”

He probably couldn’t sound more awkward if he tried.

A few months ago, when Yuuri first got word that he had gotten into the Grand Prix Final somehow, Phichit got him a gift. 

A small box, wrapped in extravagant rainbow wrapping paper sat on his bed when he got home from practice that night. It made Yuuri freeze in the doorway, Phichit biting his lip from where he sat on the couch. 

Immediately, Yuuri insisted Phichit take it back. But, of course, the Thai man had nothing of it. He refused to listen to his best friend's stumbling words. Instead he got up from the ratty sofa, pushed past Yuuri, and picked up the gift himself. 

It only took a few threats for Yuuri to  _ finally _ open the present. 

Yuuri has always been very interested in technology. He was an avid video game fan, and he found the coding and details behind online programming to be so interesting. He even liked taking apart old gadgets, studying them and trying to figure out how they worked. 

The thing was… Yuuri never had enough money to actually indulge that interest of his. 

So when he opened up the small, sleek GoPro video camera he almost had a panic attack, standing there, still in his thick parka and jacket. His hands shook and his breathing became ragged- but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the device.

It was too much, too  _ expensive _ . He didn’t deserve this and-

Phichit just wrapped his arms around his torso tightly, knowing exactly what Yuuri needed when his mind played tricks on him. 

He fell asleep that night with the recorder still in his hand. 

He used the camera every practice leading up to the Grand Prix Finale. It was so great to have Celestino record his run throughs and then for them to go back through them, picking them apart. Yuuri actually felt like the process helped him improve his skating…

Well, until he ruined himself when he finally got the chance to shine. 

“Yuuri?”

A soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He quickly glanced up from where he was crouched down, staring at the GoPro in his hand. 

“Oh, sorry.” Yuuri mumbled with flushed cheeks, standing up again and switching the recorder on. 

Victor stared at him for a moment, a crease between those perfectly sculpted eyebrows. He seemed to be studying Yuuri, trying to read what he was feeling. Yuuri continued to stare at the device, switching the settings and making sure the lenses fed well with the lighting in the arena. 

“Are you all warmed up?” Yuuri asked, trying to make his voice sound as casual as possible. 

When Yuuri looked up, Victor was glancing between himself and the teenager in the stands, a stressed out look in his eyes. 

That look did not belong there. Not if Yuuri could help it. 

“Sorry- I was just thinking about using this before the Grand Prix. I found it really helpful to find the small mistakes I made here and there. I think that it could potentially help you both, as well.” 

Explaining seemed like the only thing he could do to get those blue eyes to turn less frozen. So he dulled down the truth a little and let it slip from his chapped lips. 

The confession seemed to have the intended consequence, as Victor’s forehead smoothed and his shoulder became less tense. 

“Yeah, I’m all warmed up. And, I think that’s a great idea. It’s been a while since Yakov recorded any of my practice sessions.”

Yuuri nodded, giving him a small smile and nodding towards center rink. 

And Victor followed suit, taking a quick step and pushing off towards his starting mark. 

Making sure the angle of the camera was how he wanted it, Yuuri clicked the remote to get the familiar music going over head. 

“Here we go…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! 
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading and commenting. It makes me so happy I could cry!!
> 
> Let me know what you think below! And if you feel so inclined, share with friends! Spread the love <3
> 
> And as always...
> 
> STAY TUNED!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for taking the time to read this! Leave comments if you have any!!


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